Nothing Good Comes from Earth
by Moonwhisper
Summary: Spike/Faye: It's business as usual on the Bebop, until Faye becomes an unwilling pawn in Vicious' game. Can Spike save her in time, or will she have beat him to it and save herself? This is rated M for a reason violence, language, adult content .
1. Dust and Blood

Ok. Here's my very first fic ever! Constructive criticism appreciated. Legal junk: I own nothing, even though I wish CB were mine.  
  
Nothing Good Comes from Earth Chapter1: Dust and Blood  
  
  
  
Earth. Again. Faye wrinkled her nose in disgust as the swirls of dust licked her once white boots. Too many meteor showers and not enough rain had turned most of Northern California's farmland into craters of dirt filled with nothing but sagebrush. She blinked her eyes in the afternoon sun, raking a hand through her dirty hair, black wisps blowing into her mouth. She felt like she had been walking forever, even though she had crashed only three miles north of New San Francisco, 20 miles inland from the original city. But a three mile walk in 100 degree heat was enough to test the stamina of most people she knew, even if they had water with them, which she did not. She pulled out her dwindling pack of smokes. Crap! Only three left, she thought, lighting one of her precious cancer-sticks. She inhaled slowly, drawing the nicotine into her lungs. She exhaled, the wind blowing smoke and dirt into her face.  
  
"Damn that stings!" she yelled and dropped her cigarette while trying to wipe her tearing eyes with the back of her dusty hand. Faye thumped heavily onto the ground, retrieving the smoldering, and now dirty cigarette. She stretched her legs before her, fruitlessly wiping the grime that seemed to cover her from head to toes. Her normally bright yellow hotpants were dulled by a thickening layer of dust. 'Ugh.why am I the one who gets dumped into this giant ashtray?' she pouted, not bothering to flick the ashes from the acrid stick hanging from her lower lip. She absently watched the ashes fall onto her lap and sighed. Sulking on the ground was getting her nowhere.  
  
Just an hour ago she had been fighting with Spike about who was going to go pick up supplies. The Hammerhead was busted from their last encounter with a particularly rough bounty, so Jet going to the surface was out of the question. They had flipped a coin. Faye had apparently lost. She had left in a huff, not bothering to check the Redtail's fuel level-a stupid oversight on her part. Crashing onto the desert floor had not been on her to-do list for the day. Worse, the communication systems had been knocked offline, leaving Faye no other alternative than walking the rest of the way to town.  
  
By the time she reached the outskirts of the city the sun was sinking towards the western hills. Sweat dripped from her sun baked forehead into her eyes. She turned the sleeve of the red sweatshirt that she had tied around her waist inside out and wiped away the burning moisture before focusing on the small settlement in front of her. The dirt roads and desert flowed seamlessly into one another until it stopped at the doorstep of a small convenience store. Actual black pavement abruptly started just beyond the fuel pumps and continued east throughout the rest of the town. Gratefully, she dragged herself into the first building she saw, a rundown half wood and brick structure with a flat roof and shaded walkway. The sign swinging above the door read The Triangle Pony in faded purple letters.  
  
Inside wasn't much cleaner than the outside, but it was cool and there were plenty of empty seats. Faye thankfully slumped onto a barstool, resting her elbows on the counter. The woman behind the bar was as brown and cracked as the environment she occupied, as though she had sprung to life from the piles of dust outside her door. She stared at Faye for a moment, her brow creasing as if she were deep in thought. Then as if she had decided something, she purposefully smiled and brought her newest patron a glass of water.  
  
"Are you all right, sweetie? You look like you've been out in that sun way to long."  
  
"I'll be ok. Thanks," Faye gratefully accepted the glass, and drank deeply.  
  
"You aren't from around here, are you." It wasn't a question.  
  
"No, I was just going to pick up some supplies and head back out to space, but I crashed a few miles from here. I'm stranded until I can reach one of my friends in orbit," Faye hinted, putting on her best scared-little-girl face.  
  
"Oh, you poor child!" the woman exclaimed, looking Faye over for any signs of damage; finding nothing serious she continued "I insist you call them from here."  
  
Faye smiled, but thought the woman seemed to overdoing the mother hen bit. 'Faye, stop being paranoid, she chided herself, deciding to take the woman up on her offer.  
  
"Are you sure it won't be a problem?"  
  
"Don't be silly," she laughed, grabbing Faye's wrist and leading her to the back office.  
  
****  
  
Back on the Bebop Spike was smoking and channel surfing. As usual, nothing good was on. His stomach rumbled. Where the hell is that woman? She should have been back by now, he thought. It wasn't that he missed her company so much (in fact just the opposite), but she was bringing back food. They hadn't had anything decent to eat in over a week. As he lay on the dingy yellow couch dreaming of red meat, the com unit started beeping.  
  
"Ugh," he grunted sitting up. He flipped the switch. "Yeah," he said before he noticed the face of a very dirty, sunburned Faye on the screen.  
  
"Don't look so happy to see me," Faye said to the annoyed Spike.  
  
"What happened to you? You were supposed to be getting supplies, not working on your tan. Bye the way, you're supposed to come out of the sun before you look like a gourmet lobster dinner," he smirked.  
  
Faye's eyes narrowed to green slits as she leaned forward, an acid reply hanging onto her tongue. She swallowed, hard. She needed his help, and knowing him, if she said anything she really wanted to say, it would just piss him off and he's leave her there. She took a deep breath to calm herself before asking for his help.  
  
"Whatever, Spike," she began evenly. "I've had a rotten day and I don't really feel like dealing with your crap right now. I need you guys to come pick me up."  
  
Spike ran an exasperated hand through his unruly dark hair and sighed with a frown.  
  
"What did you do now, stupid?"  
  
She slammed her hands onto the desk, forgetting her earlier attempt to stay calm and lit into him.  
  
"Stupid? You're calling me stupid?! If it wasn't for you cheating with that damn double headed coin, it would be you out here instead of me! I ran out of gas and crashed a few miles out of New San Fran. I'm dirty, sunburned, and tired, and if you don't come get me right now I'm going to-"  
  
"Alright, alright! Keep your panties on. Jet hasn't finished with his ship yet, but I guess I'll give you a hand," Spike interrupted rolling his brown eyes to the ceiling. "I'll be down in half an hour. Where are you?"  
  
"I'm at this bar called The Triangle Pony on the north end of town."  
  
"Ok," Spike said, getting up. "Oh, and by the way.you owe me big time."  
  
Fayed clenched her teeth. "Like hell I do! Now get your bony a--"  
  
Spike turned the com off before she finished as he rolled off the vinyl couch. "The things I end up doing for that woman. Jet's going to kill her when he finds out he has to repair her ship.again.' He lit another cigarette and walked towards the hanger bay.  
  
  
  
An hour and two screwdrivers later, Faye was still waiting for Spike to show. She decided to step outside for a bit. Remnants of a spectacular Earth sunset hovered below the ensuing darkness. She had replaced her empty pack of cigarettes in the bar. To her surprise the place boasted an old- fashioned cigarette vending machine. She absently lit one as her thoughts wandered to her would be rescuer. 'So much for chivalry,' she thought angrily. Where was that man?  
  
She paced in front of the bar irritably, scuffing the toe of her boot on the dusty sidewalk. She finally stopped and rested her elbows on the wooden railing. The warm breeze picked up a bit, tossing her purple hair into her face. Swiping it angrily she resumed her slumped position, only to be stung on the neck a second later.  
  
"Ouch! Damn it!" she cursed, reaching behind her head to rub the sore spot. Her vision started to dim, and her legs slowly fell out from under her. She vaguely noticed someone grabbing her, but lost consciousness before she could react.  
  
  
  
Spike and Jet stepped inside The Triangle Pony. Spike knew she was going to kill him. He had told her 30 minutes, but he had decided to wait for Jet to finish working on his ship, mostly to annoy the hell out of Faye. Now, two hours later, the two men had finally arrived to rescue the Bebop's resident pain in the ass. It only took a moment for him to realize that she was not there.  
  
"Hey, where's that woman who used your phone a couple hours ago?" Spike asked the matronly bartender.  
  
"She went outside about an hour ago and didn't come back in," she replied with a frown.  
  
"She probably just went to get some food, Spike. She'll be back. Why don't we go catch some dinner ourselves," Jet said. He turned to the woman. "If she shows up before we're back, could you tell her we went to eat?"  
  
"Sure," she smiled.  
  
After dinner at a small café they returned to the bar, only to discover that Faye had not returned. Jet ran his hand over his balding head, trying to disguise his worry as mere frustration. In the condition Spike said she was in, she would have sat there waiting for them until they showed up, no matter how long it took, just so she could guilt -trip them later on. Simply leaving for two hours when she knew they were coming just wasn't like her. He fidgeted for a moment, hating not being able to do anything, before noticing his partner's questioning look.  
  
"Spike, I'm going to go try to locate the Redtail. I want to see what kind of damage she's done this time. Call me when she shows up." With that he turned and walked out the door.  
  
  
  
Faye groaned, still woozy from the drugs. She opened her eyes, but all she could see was darkness. Wherever she was, it was cold. Rough rope bound her wrists to whatever she was sitting on; she tried to stand up but realized it wasn't just her hands that were tied. Her eyes began to adjust to the sea of blackness around her. Why was she here? What had happened? The last thing she remembered had been smoking outside the bar, and then she had been stung.  
  
  
  
"I see you are awake."  
  
The flat voice startled her. She swallowed the fear rising in her stomach. That voice.so familiar, yet she couldn't quite place it. It ignited a cold terror in her chest that radiated outward, freezing her blood. A sudden flare of light filled the room, then dimmed. She could just make out three windowless gray walls, and assumed a fourth with a door was behind her. She was trussed to a metal chair, each of her legs tied to a different side, so that she was spread-eagle. Her hands were tied together behind her to the back her seat, thrusting her chest forward. She felt like an animal awaiting the imminent slaughter. She frantically looked around as best she could for the man speaking to her, and jumped as an icy hand grabbed the back of her neck in a snake-like caress. She froze in panic. The hand crawled up her scalp, entwining itself into her hair and roughly pulled her head back. She stared into dead blue eyes, trying to scream, but accomplishing only a harsh intake of breath as her throat constricted. White hair fell around her face as he leaned closer to her, thin lips curving into a sadistic smile.  
  
"Vicious." she breathed, barely audible.  
  
"I'm glad to see you remember me, Miss Valentine," he stated as his fingernails dug into her sunburned scalp. His smile widened as the fear in her sharp green eyes turned to terror.  
  
"Wh-what do you want from me? Why?" Her voice was barely a whisper.  
  
"Simple," he said slowly drawing a knife in front of her face, the tip tracing red under her jaw and down her neck. "To get to Spike."  
  
"You're wasting your time. Spike doesn't give a shit about me. Anything you do to me will accomplish nothing," she cried desperately, finding her voice.  
  
She winced as she felt a wet, stinging trail down her neck to where the blood was trickling in between her breasts. She felt one button of her half shirt pop, and then another.  
  
"Come now, you don't expect me to believe that, do you?" Vicious crooned menacingly.  
  
"He doesn't," she replied, knowing trying to convince him wouldn't help her.  
  
"Either way, this will be fun," his lips twisted into a sadistic smile as he bent over to taste the blood running down her throat.  
  
"Please don't do this." she begged in humiliation as he sliced the rest of her shirt open. "Please."  
  
"Please," he mimicked her, laughing. "And to think I thought you'd be some kind of challenge to break. We've hardly begun and already you're begging. Pathetic." "I'm not the pathetic one here. I can't even defend my self! You're nothing but a coward!" she spat, her voice rising. She was rewarded with a resounding blow that left her right eye purple and bloody. It was her turn to smile.  
  
"You can't even beat me up without tying me down, and you call me pathetic!," she hollared. He struck her again, this time cracking her lip, her head swinging to the side. Faye lifted her head, a wry grin forming as she tasted her own blood. She looked at him through strands of black hair and started laughing mirthlessly.  
  
Vicious scowled. No one called him a pathetic coward and lived, let alone laughed about it. Fiery rage filled him as he lost control and started beating her senseless. He sliced her clothing to shreds, heedless of the skin that tore underneath. He wanted to see her blood, feel it on his hands, taste it on his lips. Through it all she seemed to be laughing. Even as she screamed all he could hear was her laughing.  
  
She was barely alive, but he thrust himself into her over and over again, his rage increasing until he climaxed. Slowly the flames died, and he slumped over her ravaged, unconscious body. She wasn't laughing anymore. A trail of blood trickled down the inside of her thighs, pooling onto the cement floor. She wasn't laughing anymore.  
  
She awoke in a car. She couldn't see anything. Everything hurt. She suddenly felt the vehicle stop. Vicious grabbed her.  
  
"Give Spike my regards. He'll know where to find me," he hissed in her ear. The door opened and she was hurled onto the pavement. The last sound she heard was the squeal of tires as she passed out.  
  
***  
  
It was last call at The Triangle Pony. Spike was staring moodily at nothing. He had been waiting for that wench the entire night. She was really going to owe him for sitting there, wasting his time. 'Stupid woman thinks the whole damn world revolves around her,' he thought bitterly. The sound of tires screeching outside the bar brought him out of his musings. He looked out the window and saw the naked body of a woman lying in the street. He rushed outside, turned her over and gasped. It was Faye. He suddenly felt very guilty for being late.  
  
+++++++  
  
ok that was the new and improved chapter 1. I hope you like it better because I do. 


	2. Awakenings

Thanks for the positive feedback. Here comes chapter 2. Legal stuff: I still own no part of cb.not even a t-shirt. Woe is me.  
  
Nothing Good Comes from Earth  
  
Chapter 2: Awakenings  
  
  
  
Spike looked down at the limp hand in his. It had been cleaned up, but the rope burns were still raw. Compared to the rest of her, the hand looked pretty good. Finding her dumped like a piece of road-kill had been almost surreal. He had been flooded with a myriad of emotions as he stared at her nearly lifeless body. Anger, fear, pity, and mostly guilt hit him all at once. 'If I'd only been there on time this wouldn't have happened,' he kicked himself mentally. The bartender had said Faye had gone outside an hour after she had called. He had told her he'd be there to get her in half an hour. But he just had to act like a stupid child and play games.  
  
'This is all your fault, Spike,' he accused himself. 'If I wasn't so bent on pissing her off as much as possible all the time she would be safe right now.'  
  
"Faye," he whispered to the woman in the white hospital bed, "I'll make whoever did this to you pay.with his life. I promise." He lifted her limp fingers and kissed them gently. Even now, such a gesture of tenderness for this woman surprised him. He didn't like the feelings he was having for the bandaged figure, still unconscious, lying in front of him. 'I don't love her,' he told himself. 'I don't even like her.much.' It was just pity. That had to be it.  
  
He dropped her hand at the click of the door opening.  
  
"How is she?" Jet asked him, genuine concern etched on his rugged features.  
  
"Same. What did you find out?" Spike asked, running a hand through the black mass of fluff on his head that passed for hair.  
  
"Well, um," Jet choked, trying to find the right words. He decided to be blunt. "Some cracked ribs, a lot of bruising and cuts."  
  
"I can see that without a doctor, Jet. What else?" his voice was low.  
  
Jet sighed and collapsed next to him before continuing. "She was raped- they don't know by who. DNA results aren't back yet. The doc said there was a lot of internal damage to her...um.you know.stuff." Jet was blushing. Talking about Faye's reproductive system, even when she couldn't hear him was still embarrassing. "She's going to need microsurgery. At least that will ensure that she isn't pregnant."  
  
Spike lifted his head from his hands to look at Faye's shattered body. Rage, unlike any he had ever known, was filling him. He felt like he was going to explode if he didn't kill someone soon. He stood and walked to the door, looked over his shoulder at Jet, and let the thing slam behind him.  
  
Jet sat staring at her for a moment. Damn, she was a pain in the neck, but she didn't deserve anything like this. He reached out and brushed her hair across her forehead, gentler than Faye could have believed was possible had she been awake. He stood to follow Spike. Ed had been bugging him to take her to see Faye since the night before. He didn't want her to see Faye lying there like a corpse. He didn't know how to explain what rape was to her; anyhow, it wouldn't be right to show that kind of pain and suffering to a child. He took one last look at the bed, and then left her to her nightmares. He had a criminal to find.  
  
  
  
***  
  
Thwack! Spike's foot connected perfectly with the man's head. But the bastard was still standing. He kicked him again, harder this time, following up with a lightening fast series of punches. The bastard just wouldn't go down. Die already! Spike thought. Sweat was pouring down his body, burning rivulets streaming into his eyes.  
  
He had been killing the hanging bag in the Bebop's rec area since he had returned from the hospital hours ago. Ed had bounded away from her computer the second he had walked through the door, pestering him to "please take Ed to see Faye-Faye."  
  
"Not today, Ed," he had said, ruffling her red mane as he walked to his room. He was furious, but he hadn't wanted Ed to think his anger was directed at her, so he had simply ignored her afterwards.  
  
Now he was facing not a lifeless bag, but Faye's faceless attacker. He kicked, screaming in fury, and then suddenly stopped, his breathing ragged. The man faded, and the bag was just a bag again.  
  
Spike silently walked to the shower. He stood, feeling the water running down his muscled body. He still didn't feel better. The desire for revenge was consuming him, and kicking the shit out of inanimate objects wasn't helping like he had hoped. He balled his fists in frustration, and stared at the water swirling down the drain, tears silently falling down his cheeks.  
  
***  
  
Light. She blinked. A shape was floating above her, not much more than a blurry shadow. The light was so intense it hurt. She closed her eyes and opened them again, trying to focus on the object. If it would only stay still! The motion was making her nauseous. It was saying her name.  
  
"Faye? Faye? Hey, you awake?" She recognized the masculine voice.  
  
"Jet," she croaked through swollen lips. She blinked again, her eyes finally focusing on his worried face. "Where am I?"  
  
"You're in the hospital-have been for almost two days now. Don't you remember what happened?"  
  
Hospital, she thought, why would I be in the.? She jerked upright, her breath coming in short ragged gasps. The terror, the pain, his evil smile as he beat and raped her all crashed back into memory. Her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat. She flinched as Jet put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort.  
  
"Please.don't touch me," Faye begged in whisper. She hung her head down in an attempt to hide behind a dark curtain of hair. As much as she was hurting, both physically and emotionally, she still didn't want him to see her so weak.  
  
"Faye--" Jet started but was interrupted by a nurse.  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. Black. There are some things we need to do, now that she's conscious. Please wait outside."  
  
"Um, sure," he said, turning to leave. "I'll be back later with Spike and Ed. She's been bugging to see you since you got here."  
  
Faye nodded slightly, trying to give him a reassuring look. He opened the door and paused once again.  
  
"It's good to have you back, kid."  
  
The door shut softly behind him.  
  
***  
  
Spike stood smoking outside the hospital. Jet had already gone up with Edward twenty minutes ago. For some reason he was having a hard time walking through the sliding doors. Part of him wanted to rush inside and hold her, protect her, do anything to take her pain away. The other part of him wouldn't allow his feet to move. What was he thinking? I'm just feeling guilty, he thought bitterly as he smashed his cigarette butt into the standing ashtray by the door. 'Besides, she can't stand me. Ah, hell, she probably hates me after what happened.' Finally convinced his feelings for her were a product of his own guilty conscience, he strode into the building.  
  
Faye's room was upstairs on the third floor. He decided against taking the elevator, preferring to walk. He hated hospitals. The way they looked, so sterile and pristine, was creepy. The ever-present scent of industrial strength disinfectant that covered the odor of disease and death burned his sinuses. He paused in the third floor stairwell before opening the door. Spike snorted in disgust at himself. What was he afraid of? Her? 'I'm such a moron,' he thought, pushing the blue metal door open.  
  
Faye's door was propped open. All the way down the hall Spike could hear Ed's nonsense ranting. He stood outside for a moment listening.  
  
"Faye-Faye, look at what Ed can do, do, dooooooooooo!"  
  
"Ed! Get down from there! No, don't touch that!" Jet yelled.  
  
"Jet-person is ruining all of Edward's fun! NO FAIR!" Ed whined. "PUT ED DOWN!!!"  
  
"Not until you promise to behave, this isn't a frickin' park!"  
  
Spike chose that moment to walk in. Ed was hanging upside-down from Jet's shoulder, thrashing her arms and legs wildly. It was all he could do to keep his grip on her.  
  
"Hi there, Spike-person!" Ed chirped, grinning madly.  
  
Spike smiled in spite of himself. "Getting into trouble again, Ed?" he asked.  
  
He stepped around the two and saw Faye sitting on the bed poking at a tray of food. The bruises seemed to be healing quickly. All the cuts were either bandaged or scabbed over. She was still a mess, but it wasn't as painful to look at her as it had been when she had just lain there like a broken doll. She lifted her eyes. Green and bloodshot, they had lost their fire. The haughty expression that usually resided there was gone. Instead she looked like a hunted animal, ready to bolt any second. It was unnerving, seeing her so unguarded. The Faye he knew would never have allowed them to see how she really felt. The woman sitting in front of him either didn't want to hide anymore, or couldn't.  
  
"Hi, Faye," he said sitting down on the edge of her bed. He tried not to notice her moving slightly so that he wouldn't quite touch her. Was she afraid of him?  
  
"Hi," she muttered, pretending to be busy pushing the mass of pasta around her plate.  
  
"You should really eat that instead of playing with it," he said, trying to evoke a typical Faye-type smart-ass response from her.  
  
"Oh," she said, obediently putting a forkful into her mouth. She set the utensil down and stared at her plate again.  
  
Spike scratched his head, puzzled. She looked up at him, searching his face for something. It was making him uncomfortable, but at the same time bringing back his earlier desire to wrap his arms around her. Instead he just sat there. Finally, she released him from her questing gaze, turning to look outside the window.  
  
"So, I hear we get to take you home today. I bet you can't wait to sleep in your own room. Hospital beds suck."  
  
"Yeah," she responded, still staring out the window.  
  
"Spike, I'm going to take Ed down and get the paperwork started so we can get out of here tonight," Jet said, grabbing the twirling red-haired monkey by the elbow.  
  
"Ok, Jet. I'll see you in a bit."  
  
Jet left with Ed in tow, her sing-song voice retreating down the corridor. Spike turned his attention back to Faye. She didn't seem to notice they had gone. Spike reached out his hand hesitantly, then pulled it back. Oh, what the hell, he thought, sliding closer to her and pulling her into a fierce embrace. He held her tight as she cringed and whimpered, trying to escape him.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered against her hair.  
  
She pressed her hands against his yellow shirt and gave a half hearted push before giving up and resigning herself to his will.  
  
"Spike, I...I." whatever it was, she couldn't get it out. She pressed her face against his shoulder, tears staining his blue jacket. For the first time since she awoke, she allowed herself to cry.  
  
He didn't know how long he held her, stroking her back as he listened to her raw, heart-wrenching sobs. When she was finally reduced to hiccups and sniffles he spoke.  
  
"Look at me, Faye."  
  
She complied, emerald eyes penetrating his mismatched brown ones.  
  
"Whoever did this to you isn't going to live much longer."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"I'm going to hunt him down like the animal he is and kill him."  
  
Everything in his face said he was serious.  
  
'No,' Faye thought sadly, you aren't. 'I won't let Vicious use me to get to you.' She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes, the rise and fall of his breathing lulling her into a guarded sleep.  
  
Spike gazed thoughtfully at the sleeping woman in his arms. She seemed so small and helpless lying against him. She needed protection, that much was obvious. But did he have to be the one to do it? Unconsciously, he wrapped his arms tighter around her shoulders before settling himself against the wall. Soon he too was sleeping, never letting her fall from his arms.  
  
  
  
Well, here is revised chapter two as promised. Not a whole lot changed here, just a few little additions, like the last paragraph. Now I'm off to write that new in -between chapter, hope to have that out by next week! 


	3. Hey, Jealousy

Ok, here is the new chapter three, containing some of the stuff that I was too lazy to write into the first draft of this story. 

Oh, yeah, the disclaimer. How many times do I have to tell you people that I don't own Cowboy Bebop?

Chapter 3: Hey, Jealousy

Stars, so tiny and numerous lit the night sky. Meteors streaked past the remaining fragments of yellow moon, white tongues of fire licking the atmosphere before crashing to earth. Vicious frowned, shifting his attention back to the report in his hand. It was nothing important, just mundane status reports from his spy network. He didn't need to read about Faye Valentine's capture, he was there after all. 

His memories of that evening were skewed at best. It had been a good plan, using her against Spike. Could he have just waltzed up to Spike any time demanding a fight? Certainly, but the wounds wouldn't have been as painful. No, Spike needed to suffer, just as he had suffered. He still suffered, even though it had been three years. 

"Time heals all wounds," he muttered spitefully, crushing the flimsy pages in his fist. 

He stood and walked to the window of his tenth floor office. Rarely did syndicate business take him to earth, but he had an office there nonetheless. He glanced at the lights of the city around him. New San Francisco wasn't a pretty city like Tharsis, his home base on Mars. For all it's size and structure, it had a precarious feel to it, as if it knew it could be destroyed any second by an errant meteorite. Cold blue eyes wandered back to the moon, and for a moment he wondered what it used to look like, shining high and noble over the crown jewel of the solar system. He shook the useless thought away, silver tresses escaping the low pony tail he wore. His mind turned back to that night. Had it only been two days ago?

How had he lost control? He never lost control of himself, never showed any emotions, especially to those he considered beneath him. Only two other people had ever seen such an emotive outburst from him. Julia and Spike. The woman he had loved, still loved in spite of himself, and his former best friend. 

Julia was the only woman to ever have any kind of effect on him for either good or ill. Before he met her six years ago, he hadn't believed such a woman existed. He remembered the first time he saw her, late one night in a coffee house. The Mars sky had been so clear that night, when a freak thunderstorm erupted. He ran into the nearest building at the same time as she had, bumping heads in the rush for the door. 

"I'm so sorry, are you all right?" she asked in that rich voice she possessed. 

He looked up into the face of an angel, who was smiling, it seemed, just for him.

"I'm sorry, it was my fault," he heard himself reply, returning her magical smile with a genuine one of his own.

"Well, since we seem to both be at fault, perhaps you would like to share a table and a latte with me?" she invited, nodding her head toward a secluded spot in the corner of the dimly lit room. 

"That would be nice," he said amiably, inwardly surprised that he had accepted her offer. 

He followed her wordlessly to the small table tucked behind a potted tree, watching the sway of her black clad hips under her pink sweater. Just then, she turned, the light catching her blue eyes exploding like sapphires, and his heart began to beat the rhythm of a warm blooded man for the first time in his life.

"Bye the way,' she called over her shoulder, "I'm Julia…"

They were together almost daily after that first night. She was young and soft, a not –quite blueblood just out of college looking for her place in the world. He got her a job in the lower levels of the syndicate as a receptionist for one of their front operations, but she quickly moved up, thanks to his increasing status. 

Three years he spent with her. Three glorious years. Vicious had found a love that should have been envied by every man, and he knew it. Spike had known it to, and did. It was right after his last promotion one evening in a bar when the first signs of something not quite right should have gotten his attention. He and Spike were out celebrating, just drinking and talking like best friends do. He had bought it that day, and it was still wrapped up in his coat pocket, waiting for the perfect moment. He fingered the velvet box nervously as Spike prattled on about the last girl he had dumped.

"Spike," Vicious interrupted. "Don't you ever think of marriage?"

Spike's mouthful of beer sputtered across the table in a gush of shocked gasps. He wiped his shirt sleeve over his mouth, eyes wide and disbelieving.

"WHAT!" he finally managed.

"Well, that's an obvious answer if I ever heard one," Vicious replied, smirking. 

"You mean….Julia? You're going to?"

"Well, I'm going to ask her, but I'm sure she'll want to," he said a bit uncomfortably. 

Just then he noticed Spike's face. He had grown pensive and silent, brooding into his beer. He brushed it off, thinking Spike 'the Eternal Bachleor' Speigel would never understand.

"Do you really think that's a good idea, Vicious? It's a big step. The biggest," he said in a low voice, frowning. "How do you know she is _the one?"_

"I just do."

It was only after he had found out about his friend and his girlfriend's affair that he understood Spike's reaction…

The ringing of the phone broke into his memories. Grateful for the interruption, he threw the crumpled papers back onto his desk.

"Vicious," he answered in his usual cold tone.

_So cold….so dark. She shivered, trying to wrap her arms around herself, only to find that she was unable to move. She felt her nakedness, a million slithering hands stroking her skin. _

_"Pathetic…"whispered a multitude of hissing voices._

_"Whore…"another group agreed._

_"Worthless slut," said one eerily familiar voice. It came closer, seeming to be all around her._

_"Go away! Leave me alone!" she screamed, but no sound came from her. Her words echoing in her mind._

_"No one can help you," the voice said, next to her ear. "They wouldn't anyway. Remember, he doesn't give a shit about you. Isn't that what you said?"_

_A new hand added itself to those already abusing her body, pinching and kneading her flesh. She felt dirty, so dirty. Inside and out. _

_"What have I done to deserve this?" she cried in her head, feeling tears drip down her face. Somehow she knew they were made of blood, her blood._

_Then his face came into view. Those cold eyes shredding her sanity, piercing her to the core, raping her mind as well as her body. He reached out one cold hand and captured her throat, crushing it slowly, devil's smile never leaving his face…_

She awoke with a choked gasp, only to find herself immobilized. Her face was pressed into a very obviously male chest, arms wrapped around her, preventing her from moving. Her breath quickened, tears rushing down her cheeks as she struggled to get off the sleeping man.

She would have jumped ten feet away from him if she had been capable of doing so; but she had to settle for rolling off of him into an exhausted heap between his body and the wall. She lay there, breathing rapidly, trying not to hyperventilate. He was sprawled everywhere so she couldn't avoid touching him. Her sobs grew louder until she was almost wailing as she succumbed to the terror of being alone with a man.

He bolted upright on the bed, drawing his gun and sweeping the room in one quick motion. Finding nothing amiss, he holstered the weapon and turned his attention to the hysterical woman next to him.

"Faye! What's wrong?" he asked in a panicky voice, not sure how deal with her. 

He reached out a hesitant hand and lightly touched her arm. She screamed, yanking the appendage away as if she had been burned, and half jumped half crawled toward the foot of the bed.

"Don't touch me! Get out get out get out get out!" she cried as he grabbed her gently around the waist and pulled her back to him.

"Faye, calm down! I'm not going to hurt you! It's just me. Spike. Just calm down," he said quietly into her ear, rocking her back and forth as she struggled for even breath.

"Spi-ike," she wept in a choked whisper, finally regaining control of herself.

"Shhhh, it's ok. You're safe; he's not here. I won't let anyone hurt you," he soothed.

She finally stopped thrashing and settled onto his lap, breathing heavily as he continued to rock her like a child. He reached over to the tray beside the bed for the glass of water she had been drinking with her lunch and handed it to her. She accepted it with shaking hands and sipped the cool liquid, trying not to spill. Silently she handed the glass back to him, then buried her face in her hands. 

"It was a dream," she whispered to herself, trying to convince her sanity to return.

"Nightmare?" Spike asked, loosening his grip on her now that the crisis was over.

She simply nodded her reply and slid off his lap to the floor.

"Where are you going," he asked her.

"Bathroom," she mumbled, too embarrassed to look at him.

"Um…are you," he began deciding against asking her if she was ok, since the answer to that was fairly obvious.

"hmmm?" she paused, not turning.

"Can I get something for you?" he finally asked, feeling just as awkward as she did.

"Yeah, something to wear out of this place," she said monotone.

The bathroom door clicked shut.

Well, that's the new chapter. Hope you liked. I was aiming to show Vicious' human side, or the one he used to have, and a little hint at why he was such a twisted monster. How'd I do?

Until next time…..


	4. Naked is My Shame

Hello again. I know, I disappeared.again.. So sorry (please don't beat me with wet noodles)! I typed this up a few months ago on my evil mac that has gone bye-bye. I figured it was way past time to post it. Thanks to everyone in advance. I know this is really short, but I needed an interlude between the last chapter and the next.  
  
Usual disclaimer applies (Cowboy Bebop not mine, etc, etc.but this plot is)  
  
Chapter 4 Naked is My Shame  
  
  
  
Faye held the oversized white T-shirt and too long black sweatpants at arms length. She wrinkled her busted nose, grimacing slightly from the pain, as she studied them. Clearly they were meant for someone a bit taller and broader than she was; someone like Spike. She let her hands drop to her lap and sighed in resignation.  
  
"Couldn't he have brought me something of my own?" she muttered, tossing them aside.  
  
She smoothed the white hospital gown over her lap, sighing once again. It seemed she had two choices. One, she could go home in the paper-thin hospital gown that showed off more leg than she was comfortable with; or two, she could wear Spikes clothes. Neither choice was very appealing at the moment.  
  
Faye grumbled and pushed herself off the rumpled bed.  
  
Why can't they just put locks on the doors, she thought unhappily as she pulled the blue privacy curtain. She wasn't going to chance anyone barging in on her while she was dressing. It wasn't like Spike or Ed would knock before inviting themselves in. Jet, maybe, but not the other two. Exhausted by the slight activity, she hobbled back to the bed once more and collapsed.  
  
She frowned at her swollen legs and ankles. They were still horribly sunburned, but the black and purple bruises and numerous cuts obscured the redness. She glanced at the too thin arms protruding from wide white sleeves. They hadn't fared any better. Sickened by the sight of her own body, and quite certain that she looked even worse than that underneath her clothing, she closed her eyes and clutched the hem of the garment, slowly pulling it off. It dropped to her feet with a whisper.  
  
Quickly, Faye yanked the T-shirt over her head and pulled the pants up over her hips, tightening the drawstring as much as her wounds would allow. She flopped onto her back, realizing that she was trembling and gasping for air. An angry hand wiped away the moisture leaking onto her cheeks as she drew her knees up to her chest, rolling to the side.  
  
What has he done to me? She thought, thoroughly ashamed of herself. Being naked for two seconds, especially with no one around, should not have felt so degrading.  
  
She jolted upright at the small knock on her door. It creaked open before she could respond. Fear clutched at her heart. It was him, back to finish her, she just knew it.  
  
"Faye?" Spike's voice drifted from behind the curtain.  
  
She let out the breath she had been holding in relief.  
  
Well, at least he knocked, she mused sourly, not wanting to admit she was glad it was him who came to get her and not someone else.  
  
"Back here," she mumbled, sitting up.  
  
Spike rounded the blue divider, stopping in front of her. He tried not to flinch as he looked at her mutilated body. He had seen her plenty of times in the last two days, but the shock of what that bastard did to her never wore off. Every time he saw the bruises, the crusted blood, every time he smelled the fear that clung to her like a cloud, that awful consuming anger would rekindle from the ashes. Realizing he was scowling, he forced his face to relax, averting his eyes to the window above her head.  
  
"Ready to go?" he asked as he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, trying to appear nonchalant.  
  
She looked up at him with timid green eyes, still ashamed of the way she had behaved an hour ago when she had woken up on top of him.  
  
"Yeah," she said softly, turning her gaze to the floor.  
  
An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a moment. Finally, she pushed herself off the bed onto weak legs. She brushed past Spike and around the curtain. Turning on his heel, he strode after her.  
  
Faye leaned on the doorframe for a moment, trying to regain her balance.  
  
"You know, if you can't walk, we can get a nurse to wheel you out of here," Spike commented casually as he walked past her through the door.  
  
"I don't need anyone to push me around like a baby," she snapped. She tried to sound fierce, but only ended up sounding tired.  
  
She gave her head a half-hearted toss and shoved past him at a limping pace down the white hallway. A minute later she was leaning against the wall on shaking legs, wheezing slightly. She slid down to the white tiled floor, tucking her knees under her chin, and closed her eyes. I'm not going to cry again, not in front of him, she thought angrily. It wasn't fair. Nothing was ever fair when it came to her. Her eyes flew open as something gently bumped her foot. Spike was leaning over a brown wheelchair, arms balanced on the handles; his lips were pulled in a self-conscious grin that ended up looking more like a smirk than a smile.  
  
"Come on princess, your coach is waiting," he said walking around the chair. He rolled his eyes slightly as he grudgingly offered her a hand off the floor.  
  
Fayed grunted, pushing herself up without his assistance, her eyes throwing daggers in his direction.  
  
"I don't want your pity," she said softly as she prepared to take another step forward.  
  
"Will you just get in the damn chair so we can get out of here this century?" Spike growled.  
  
She flinched at his harsh words and obeyed, falling heavily onto the brown vinyl seat. Who was she kidding, anyway? She knew there was no way she would have been able to walk out of the hospital on her own. She let a heavy sigh escape her lips as he pushed her into the elevator. 


	5. revenge and romance just don't mix

Here I go again. I'm trying to crank this out as fast as possible. Happy you're all enjoying. I know Faye seems too timid-but give her a break! She was just beaten and raped, for crying out loud. That's bound to change anyone's perspective at first.  
  
So here it is!  
  
I repeat: Cowboy Bebop is not in any way mine.  
  
Chapter 4: Revenge and Romance Just Don't Mix  
  
Faye groaned, opening her eyes to look at the glowing clock. Three a.m. She rolled over and buried her head under the pillow. This insomnia was killing her. With an exasperated sigh she sat up. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she had awakened in the hospital almost two months ago. Flinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood and stretched. The numerous cuts and bruises were healing nicely. Only a few light yellow spots remained around her eyes, and most of her bandages were gone. She would have one or two faint scars from the deeper cuts, but they could be removed if she decided to later on. She was in pretty good condition, at least physically. Her emotional scars couldn't be erased so easily.  
  
She quietly stepped into the hall, pausing to see if anyone was around, then walked to bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror examining the woman reflected there. Faye hardly recognized herself these days. She hardly ever brushed her hair, never wore make-up. The same oversized sweatpants and T-shirt that Spike had lent her had adorned her frame since she had left the hospital. She had a closet full of beautiful, sexy clothes, but she couldn't bring herself to wear any of them. They made her feel vulnerable, naked, and even a little trashy, like she was some kind of whore. The only thing that hadn't noticeably changed was how often she showered; but she no longer walked around in a towel. She always went in fully clothed and came out the same way.  
  
She frowned at herself and raised her hand to touch the mirror. I'm not even a shadow of who I used to be, she thought sadly. I miss me, but what can I do? She let her hand fall limply to her side. She couldn't answer her own question, and knew no one else could answer it for her.  
  
She left the bathroom and walked to the observation deck, but not before stopping in the galley first to grab a bottle of gin she had left on the counter. With the open bottle in one hand and a burning cigarette clenched between the fingers of the other, she stood staring out the window at the endless stars.  
  
***  
  
Ugh, ten in the morning is to damn early to get up, Spike thought as he lay in bed. He reached over to the nightstand, fumbling for his cigarettes and matches. Satisfied that his fingers had found what they were searching for, he lit one and inhaled his first smoke of the day while still lying down. Still groggy, he pulled his pants on and walked out to couch, the cigarette dangling from his lower lip.  
  
"Damn it all! Not again!" he muttered, eyeing Faye curled up on the old couch, a half empty bottle lying on the floor next to her. When was she going to stop doing that night after night? He stood over her and just stared. He shrugged and bent down, slipping his arms under her neck and legs. If she was going to insist on falling asleep on the couch, she was just going to have to deal with him moving her.  
  
Faye grunted as her eyes fluttered open. She looked at him, confused, and then annoyed. "What the hell are you doing? Put me down, Spike. I was finally sleeping!" She was pissed and he knew it.  
  
He grinned a little at her grumpiness. It was the first of the old Faye peeping through he had seen since they had brought her home. Every other morning that he carried her to her room, she had said nothing. Now she was looking at him like he was the biggest idiot she knew. Good, he thought, there's hope for her yet.  
  
"I mean it, you jerk! PUT ME DOWN!" She was yelling now.  
  
"Have it your way, princess," Spike said, unceremoniously dumping Faye back on the couch and plopping next to her. He turned the TV on and lit a second cigarette off the first.  
  
Faye glared at him. She was obviously hung-over and in a nasty mood. She snorted and stole the cigarette right out of his mouth. Spike sighed and lit another.  
  
"You know you should really stop drinking so much for dinner," he said casually, wondering just how foul her mood was.  
  
"Jerk," Faye mumbled, glowering. If a look could kill, Spike would have been dead in half a second.  
  
"Your night-time drinking has really cut into your beauty sleep, Faye. You look like shit."  
  
Instead of yelling at him, Faye just looked at him. The anger was gone from her eyes, replaced by the hurt look he had gotten only too familiar with in the past three weeks. He suddenly felt guilty. She looked like she was going to cry. Silently, she stood up and walked toward her room. A moment later he heard the sound of a door closing.  
  
"I am such an asshole," Spike swore at himself, jumping up to follow her.  
  
"Faye," he said as he knocked on her door.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Come on, Faye. Open up. I want to talk to you," he paused, waiting for a reply. He was rewarded with more silence. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry. You look fine!"  
  
"Please.just go away," begged a muffled voice.  
  
"I'm coming in," Spike said, pushing the door open.  
  
Faye was curled up on the bed, her knees hugging her chest. Her head was buried under her arms. Her tiny body was shaking with her sobs. He sat down next to her and patted her back.  
  
"I really am sorry. I was just playing with you. I guess I just thought things could finally be the way they used to. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss fighting with you."  
  
She turned her head to look at him. He gave her a sad, crooked smile and shrugged helplessly. She sat up, staring at him through the uncombed hair hanging in her face. Without thinking he swept her hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek. He really hadn't meant what he said. Even with the dark circles under eyes, he still found her quite pretty.  
  
"You know you're still beautiful, don't you?" Spike whispered, blushing slightly.  
  
He leaned closer, their noses almost touching. Faye's breath was coming in short gasps; their eyes still locked together. 'What am I doing?' Spike wondered, unable to move away. 'It's just pity,' he lied to himself. He was drowning in a green gaze that was timid, yet somehow passionate.  
  
'I really want to kiss her,' he thought , licking his lips. 'Whoa, where did that come from?'  
  
The shock was enough to send him to his feet. Where had that come from? He didn't notice the relief that washed across her face.  
  
"So.um.do you remember anything that might help us catch the bastard?" Spike asked changing the subject. He and Jet had no leads as to the identity of Faye's attacker. The DNA had come up with no ID, like it belonged to a phantom. Ed hadn't been able to find a match, either.  
  
"No.," Faye said.  
  
Spike looked at her. She had kept telling them she knew nothing, not even what he looked like, but somehow he knew she was hiding something.  
  
"Faye," he began, leaning over her, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her hips. "I know you're hiding something."  
  
She looked up at him startled. "I'm not.I mean.why would I-"  
  
"You tell me why you're lying to us. Don't you want him to be punished for what he did to you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then why won't you tell me what you know? Why won't you help us?" Spike was almost shouting.  
  
"Because I can't! I just can't! He'll kill you! That's why he did it, Spike. To get to you!" She was yelling, tears streaming down her face.  
  
Spike was floored by the gravity of her words. She was hurt because of him, and now she was protecting him. His knees gave out, and he sank in front of her, his arms wrapping around her middle.  
  
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with loathing. "Tell me, Faye. I want to know who."  
  
"No, Spike, please don't ask-"  
  
"Tell me, Faye. Tell me now," he demanded. His voice was so full of hate it scared her.  
  
His eyes burned into her as he searched her face. Her eyes grew wide as held her gaze until she turned away, the answer on her lips.  
  
"Vicious," she said, ashamed of her own weakness.  
  
Spike looked at her, but he didn't really see her. His mind was elsewhere.  
  
'Vicious, you fucking bastard! This is the last time you hurt someone because of me!'  
  
He stood up and left her room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Faye sat on her bed staring at the door he had just exited through.  
  
"Oh, God, what have I done?"  
  
  
  
Here ends chapter 3. Sorry it's so short. 


	6. One Way or Another

OK on to chapter 5. AND I STILL OWN NOTHING (CB that is)  
  
Chapter 5: One Way or Another  
  
Jet looked up from his cooking. The ship had been so quiet lately. Everyone was walking on eggshells around Faye these days. Her dark mood seemed to be contagious. Hell, even the dog was miserable. Ein lifted his fuzzy head, as if he knew Jet was thinking about him, then went back to sleep. He never would have thought he couldn't stand the sound of silence, but he found himself missing Ed's constant noise and Spike and Faye's bickering. Yup, depression was weighing on everyone, even him.  
  
He and Spike had only tackled the small bounties since Faye's ordeal. Neither would admit that they didn't want to leave her alone for long. She had changed so much, and in turn, so had everyone else. It was disturbing to finally get what he had been wishing for ever since his small crew had joined him: peace and quiet; Faye to shut up and learn her place; Ed to stop acting like a maniac every second she was awake. So why wasn't he enjoying it?  
  
The sound of a ship docking brought him out of his reverie. Spike sauntered in, his jacket flung over one shoulder. He tossed some money on the counter next to Jet, opened the fridge, retrieved a bottle of beer, and walked into the common room, all without saying a word. Jet followed him.  
  
"So you got the guy, then?" Jet asked, wondering why Spike was so damn moody.  
  
"Obviously. I didn't pull those 13,000 woolongs out of my ass." Spike replied, searching for the TV remote under the couch cushions.  
  
"What's bugging you, Spike? You've been walking around pissed off for over a week," Jet inquired, a little irritated. He folded his massive arms across his chest, waiting for a reply.  
  
Spike ignored him. Jet just stood there. Finally, Spike looked at him and sighed.  
  
"Let me guess, your not going to leave without an answer." Spike rubbed his temples and sat there with his head in his hands.  
  
"Nope." Jet leaned against the wall, stoic as ever.  
  
"Fine," Spike surrendered in an exasperated groan. He said nothing for a moment.  
  
"Well..," Jet prodded.  
  
"It's Faye. She told me who hurt her."  
  
"What! I thought she didn't know!"  
  
"Yeah, well she does."  
  
"So why are you mad? Because she didn't tell us right away?" Jet was confused.  
  
"No. It's because of her reason for not telling us.it's all my fault."  
  
Jet scratched his balding head. Now he was really confused. "Her not telling is all your fault?"  
  
"No. Well, yes-but that's not what I'm talking about."  
  
"Well, what the hell are you talking about!"  
  
"She was attacked because of me-"  
  
"Spike, I thought we already went through this. You can't blame yourself because we were late to pick her up. You didn't know-"  
  
"No, not that! He hurt her because of ME. He did it to get to ME!" "Who did?"  
  
"Viscous."  
  
All of a sudden everything made perfect sense. Jet walked around the couch and took a seat across from his partner. They sat in silence for while, each smoking and thinking. Jet finally broke the silence.  
  
"So, what are you gonna do, Spike," Jet asked, not really wanting to hear the answer he knew was coming.  
  
"Nothing," a quiet voice interrupted. Neither had noticed Faye's presence until she spoke. "He's going to do nothing."  
  
"Faye, you know this has to end between him and me, so it might as well be now," Spike said seriously, not looking up.  
  
"No. I won't let you go get-"  
  
"You have no say in this, Faye. You have no right," Spike interjected.  
  
"No right? I have no right? Damn you, I have every right! If you think I'm going to stand here and watch you give Viscous the exact thing he wanted, you're crazy! You aren't going, Spike. If you try I'll shoot you myself. There will be no more victims!" Faye was screaming.  
  
"Then go get your gun, 'cause I'm going after him," Spike stated flatly, cold steel flashing in his eyes.  
  
Jet stared at the two of them. Faye was trying to stare down Spike with an evil glare of her own, challenging him to test her. They just sat there, neither one speaking, each trying to make the other see things their way. Jet didn't doubt that Spike would try to leave, but from the way Faye looked, he wasn't so sure she wouldn't shoot him as promised. Maybe it would have been better if she hadn't told him, Jet wondered, shaking his head. He got up, leaving the two to continue their show-down in private. Dinner wasn't going to cook itself.  
  
***  
  
In the end it had been a stalemate. Both had stared unblinking at the other until Jet had announced dinner. Faye had growled her annoyance before taking her meal to her room. If he wasn't going to listen to reason, she would just have to find another way to keep him from getting his ass sliced up. Think, Faye, think, she thought to herself. Her concentration was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of Ed whizzing by her door singing something about Ein. That kid may be a genius, but she sure is weird, Faye mused, shaking her head. Ed. Ed. Ed was a genius. Just the genius I need, Faye smiled to herself, getting up.  
  
"Oh, Edward.," Faye called down the hall after her.  
  
Ed turned around and danced back towards Faye.  
  
"Faye-Faye speaks! Is Faye-Faye all better now?" Ed asked, jumping up to hug her.  
  
"Um.yes. I'm much better now," Fayed said sweetly, leading Ed back into her room.  
  
"Wow!" Ed said, her amber eyes as big as saucers. She had never really had a good look at Faye's quarters before. Faye had always thrown her out. She started picking things up and examining them, even Faye's bras.  
  
Faye just sat there, trying very hard not to be annoyed. She needed Ed's help.  
  
"Come sit down, Ed. I want to talk to you about something very serious. But it has to be our secret, ok?"  
  
"Faye-Faye wants to tell Edward a seeeeeeeeeecret. Ooooooooo," Ed said in her spooky voice, clapping her hands excitedly.  
  
"Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Promise, Ed."  
  
"Ok, Edward promises. Ed and Faye-Faye have a secret!" she sang, bouncing.  
  
"Ed, I need your help. I need you to make it so that the computer on Spike's ship won't work. Can you do that?"  
  
"Sure Ed can. But why make Spikey-Spike's ship not work?"  
  
"So Spike won't leave us and get himself killed," Faye explained.  
  
"Why would Spike-person leave?" Ed was confused.  
  
"Well.he wants to go kill that man that hurt me."  
  
"But that's good, right?"  
  
"No. This bad man wants to kill Spike, and I don't want him to die. Do you want Spike to die, Ed?" Faye said holding the girl still so that she could see just how serious she was.  
  
"No. Ed doesn't want Spike to die," Ed said quietly.  
  
"Good. So then you'll help?" Faye asked hopefully.  
  
"Roger-Roger. Ed's on the job!" she said gleefully, giving Faye a salute. "Ed will do it now!"  
  
The young girl ran from Faye's room, flapping her arms and making airplane noises.  
  
'That was easy enough,' Faye thought, pleased with herself. She lay back on her bed and smiled for the first time in weeks.  
  
"I don't know why I care about you, Spike. But if I have to live with it so do you." Faye sat up, grabbed her bathrobe, and went to take a shower. Suddenly, she was tired of living in sweatpants.  
  
  
  
  
  
OK! I know this was short, but I'm eager to post this. Chapter 6 up soon! Thanks for all the great reviews! 


	7. Working Against the Demons

Disclaimer:  I own no part of CB, yada, yada, yada…

Chapter 5:  Working Against the Demons

"DIE ASSHOLE!" Spike yelled sitting up, his breath coming in ragged gasps.  Dark green hair was plastered to his head, and his half naked body was soaked in sweat.  One shaky hand reached for his pack of smokes.  Only after it was half way gone did his pulse return to almost normal.  He disentangled himself from the sheets and pulled on a pair of loose gray sweatpants.  Every time he dreamed of killing Vicious, the only thing that could truly calm him down was a good workout.  He glanced at the clock sitting on the cluttered nightstand.  It was only seven.  Why so early, he groaned inwardly. He sighed in defeat and walked out the door.  He would just start earlier than usual today.

He walked down the hall to the bathroom, lost in thought.  He hadn't seen Faye since she had angrily left with her dinner in hand to her room.  Truth be told, he had been avoiding her ever since that morning in her room when he had told her she was beautiful.  He didn't like the way he felt when he looked at her; the ache tugging in his chest, as well as groin, was disturbing.  That paired with how much she could irritate and arouse him at the same time didn't help.  He hadn't felt like that, exactly, about a woman.  Not even with Julia.  Sure, he had lusted after plenty of them, but Julia was the only woman he thought he could love.  Lately he wasn't so sure.  He hadn't thought about her much in past several months, even before Faye's attack.  Even now, as he thought about their past relationship, it was with only a slight pang, not the heart-wrenching turmoil he had suffered for the past three years.  Was he really over her?  Do I even love her anymore, or just what she represented at the time?  He was surprised that the answer was most definitely the latter.  Faye was everything Julia was not.  Julia had been delicate, sweet, and compliant, like a soft spring rain.  Faye was all fire and passion, more akin to a lightening storm than anything else.  No one would ever control her the way Vicious had controlled Julia.  

He scratched his head in wonder, searching the face in the mirror.  How can I possibly want that hissing wild cat over the sweet purr of a kitten like Julia? Spike thought, frowning.  He had finally given up telling himself that wanting Faye was some sort of mercy act.  But admitting it scorched him a bit.  He had been nothing but rude and stand-offish to everyone, especially her.  I really am a dick, he chastised himself.  The conclusions he had drawn were not pleasant.  He really needed that workout.  He picked up a towel and exited the bathroom, heading for the bag that he imagined was Vicious' head.

Thack. Thump thump thump.  

"What the hell…," Spike said to himself.  Someone was already in the rec area, doing exactly what he had been planning from the sounds of fists and feet crashing in to leather.  Who the heck can that be, he wondered, turning the corner.  He blinked in the dim light.

There was Faye, in all her pissed off splendor.  She had discarded the baggy sweats that had become her uniform.  She was dressed in a black tank top and tight, black spandex pants.  She wore no shoes or socks.  Here black hair stuck straight out in two spiky pig tails that were bouncing with her every jab.  He noticed that those weren't the only things bouncing.  Her pale skin was flushed, and she was drenched in sweat. Her face contorted into an angry mask.  There was a dangerous fire burning in those eyes.

 She didn't notice him watching her. Faye was completely absorbed in her imaginary opponent; and from the looks of it she was kicking his ass.  How many times have I lost myself like that? Spike wondered, a crooked smile teasing the corners of his mouth.   

Faye danced around the bag, jabbing and dodging one second, then turning and kicking it squarely the next.  She was no wuss, that was for sure.  The bag was swinging wildly from the force of her attack, almost as much as it did when he was kicking it himself. I wonder who she's fighting, he marveled, admiration growing into grudging respect.  With a bit of guidance she could be really good

"Take a wild stab, afro-boy," Faye said, breathing heavily.  Spike hadn't realized he had spoken his last thoughts aloud.

With one last jump-kick, Faye sent the bag swinging towards him.  Spike caught it without thinking, bringing her workout to a halt.

"So where'd you learn all that?  I thought all your moves involved sex and a gun?"  Spike asked, frowning, trying to hide the arousal he was sure was plainly scrawled on his face.

"Honestly, Spike, I have no idea," Faye breathed, stealing Spike's towel and wiping her streaming face.  "And as for the sex and the gun, those are just for when I'm feeling lazy."

Faye threw the wet towel at him, then stretched her aching muscles.  Spike's fingers dug into the leather he was still holding.  She was built like a cat, all length and flexibility.  She closed her eyes, crossing her arms behind her neck, elbows pointing up and out.  Her chest was thrust forward as she arched her back.  Spike swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at her lithe figure.  She was so beautiful. So dangerous.  He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and take her right there on the mats.  She seemed completely unaware of what she was doing to him.  God, why couldn't she have stretched in her room?  Finally, she was done.

"Ugh…I need a shower," she said, walking past him.  Before he could think about it, Spike reached out and grabbed her arm.

"So who was it?" he asked her in a tight voice, pulling her closer to him.

"Who was what?" She was confused.  Every time he looked at her like that, all his attention focused on her, it made her feel…hot, almost like it was too humid to breathe properly.  She was frightened of him to a point, the thought of him touching her uncomfortable, yet oddly arousing at the same time.  Get a hold of yourself, girl, Faye thought as she drowned in his eyes.

"Who were you fighting?"  His voice was soft, but insistent.  Was that desire she heard?

Faye broke away from his gaze, her heart racing. She looked up at him through dark lashes and whispered, "Probably the same guy you were planning on."

They both knew who.  Vicious.

She hadn't realized how close he'd pulled her, but now she was suddenly very aware of his body next to hers: his bare torso, the sparse hair peeking just above the pants sliding down his hips. Half of her wanted to run screaming from any kind of sexual contact; but the other half wanted him, even if she was still afraid of intimacy.  Spike wrapped both hands around her biceps, his breath hot on her neck as he leaned over her.  He was caressing her arms, his hands moving slowly up and down.  His left hand trailed fire to her back, stroking the bare skin just inside the edge of her tank top.  She stood there like a statue, fighting between grabbing him and running away screaming.

He pressed her to him, her soft curves sliding down his hard muscles.  His arousal was obvious against her belly as he pushed himself closer.  

"Faye…," he pleaded, tilting her chin up so he could see her eyes.  He wanted to see her desire for him in her face.  Instead he saw fear.

"Spike, I…I…I can't," she murmured, tears burning her alabaster cheeks.

He released her, his arms hanging limply.

"I'm so, sorry," Faye wept, running in the direction of the bathroom.

Spike leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed.  I'm definitely an asshole, he thought.  What kind of man tries to jump a girl who was savagely raped by his ex-best friend only a month ago?  A very self-centered, stupid one, he answered himself.  He didn't even open his eyes as he kicked the bag brutally. He wasn't seeing white hair and cold blue eyes.  Instead he was beating up the last man that hurt her- a man with wild, dark green hair and eyes that were mismatched brown.  

***

Faye stood in the shower, desperately trying to wash the dirt that covered her soul down the drain.  The sweat of her morning exertions had disappeared already in a swirl of suds and tears, but she still felt dirty.  She had started feeling clean again, and he had to go and touch her.  He couldn't help it, she said, thinking of the tight black outfit that was lying in a heap on the floor.  I must have been asking for it.  What had made her so frightened she was sick was her reaction to him touching her.  She had wanted it, and he knew it.  God, I sound like a scared little virgin, she thought with repugnance.  Faye Valentine was no stranger to sex; heck, there was a time she even liked it.  For the past couple of years she really hadn't had anything that great, but it hadn't frightened her. At least not until Vicious...She shook her head, trying to forget him.  That hadn't been sex; that had been an invasion, a violent attack. She cleared her mind and thought of Spike. When was the last time her body had betrayed her like that?  She couldn't think of a single incident.  Why him?  Why now?  I can't afford to fall in love with that suicidal maniac!  She knew she wouldn't be able to keep him away from Vicious forever, no matter what Ed had done to his ship.  She laughed a little, remembering how Ed had played into her hands.  She felt strangely guilty involving her-Ed was just a kid, after all-but it had been for the greater good, and it had given her and Ed something to share.  I'm going soft for the little twerp.  Somehow, she didn't seem to mind.

The cold water brought her back to the present.  She shrieked, and jumped out.  A whole lot of things may have changed around here, but this shower sure isn't one of them, she thought sourly, shivering.  How many times had that happened since she had come here?  She towel-dried her hair and then wrapped it around her.  She looked down at the dirty pile of clothes.  She didn't want to put them back on, but she still wasn't yet comfortable enough to run around in her towel.  She scowled, picking up the black top.  It smelled like her, but there was another scent.  It was warm and musky, tinged with smoke, sweat and aftershave.  It was Spike.  And it wasn't unpleasant.  She realized what she was doing and dropped the shirt like a snake.  What was going on with her?  Do I really like him that much?  Could it be that she, a woman who wore a mask of contempt to protect herself from being hurt by others, was letting her guard down and falling for someone?   The thought was disturbing, irrational, and oh, so true.  

She finished drying herself off, trying to forget about her conflicting feelings for Spike.  She wanted him, yet was afraid.  I'm just not ready for physical stuff after…she let her thoughts stray from Vicious to Spike.  His crooked grin, stupid hair, smart mouth…she knew he wouldn't hurt her on purpose.  He was a jerk, not a monster.  I'm just not ready.  She sighed and gathered her clothes in her arms.  She slowly opened the door, hoping that no one was around to see her half naked.  It was only 8:30, after all.  Spike wouldn't be done yet, and surely no one else was awake.  She took a deep breath and made a mad dash toward her room.

Aaawwwwwwwww…wasn't that *sigh* romantic yet sad.  I want to know what ya'll think!


	8. Drowning in Confusion

Sorry it took so long to get this up.

Disclaimer:  I do not own CB.

Chapter6:  Drowning in Confusion

"JEEEEEEETTTTTTTT!  WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY SHIP?" Spike screamed loud enough for everyone to hear him from the hanger bay.  He stormed wild-eyed into the galley, then to the common room looking for him.  He knew Jet was around there somewhere.  Someone had sabotaged the Swordfish, and he had a pretty good idea who was behind it.  

"Faye," he growled, stomping in the general direction of her room.  First she had withheld important information; that he could understand, even forgive, given the circumstances.  Then she had asked, no, demanded that he leave Vicious alone.  Fine.  He could deal with her voicing her opinion.  But this was way out of line!  Nobody touched his ship without his permission!  And that, that woman had the audacity to… he clenched his fists and punched the wall, leaving a small dent in the dull metal.  She had lied to him in the past.  She had stolen from him.  She had been an annoying little pest.  And he had forgiven her all that.  Well, he thought smoking furiously, not this time.  That ship was like a piece of him!  And she had screwed it up!

"Faye!" he yelled, pounding on her door.  "Open up right now!"  He waited, smoke pouring from his flared nostrils.  He was getting impatient. 

"Come one, Faye!  Open the fucking door right now, or I swear to God, I'll break the damn thing down!"

That was it.  He had waited long enough.  He was going to kick it, but decided to try the handle first.  It was unlocked.  He flung the door wide open, expecting Faye, but instead there was Edward sitting on Faye's bed.  Goggles in place, she sat clacking away on the keyboard, oblivious to the raging Spike.

"Ed."

She ignored him.

"ED!" 

Ed was obviously very annoyed.  "Ed is very busy now.  Try again later."

He didn't have time for this.  He grabbed the green goggles off her head.  "Ed," he said pointedly.

She leapt off the bed screeching.  "Hey!  Give those back to Ed!  Ed was trying to work!"

Spike held them high above her head, slightly amused at her jumping frantically.

"You'll get them back when you tell me what I want to know."

"Fine," Ed surrendered, her amber eyes glaring at him through tapered slits.  "What does Spike-person want."

"Where's Faye?"  He asked, swinging the goggles on the tip of his finger.

"Ed doesn't know."

"Well then why are you in her room?"

"Faye-Faye invited Edward!"  she laughed, forgetting she was angry for the moment. 

"Now, that's funny Ed.  I thought Faye didn't like you in her room."  Spike knew there was something fishy going on.

"Oh, Faye-Faye and Edward are friends now," Ed smiled, twirling on one foot.

"And just how did that happen," Spike asked, even though he had a pretty good idea already.

"Faye-Faye and Ed have a secret!" she sang, then clasped a tanned hand over her mouth and giggled.  "Oooops.  Ed wasn't supposed to tell."

A secret, Spike thought. Hmmm.  He grabbed the Tomato off the bed and held it up with the goggles.

"Noooooooo!  Not Ed's Tomato!  Give it back, give it back!" she cried in dismay as she tugged his pant leg frantically.

"Not until you tell me what this secret is," Spike said smiling.  Now I've got her.

"Faye-Faye-asked-Ed-to-break-Spikey-Spike's-ship-so-he-wouldn't-leave-us-and-die!" She ran the sentence together like it was one word.  

Spike tried not to care about what that had meant.  Faye and Ed…worried about him?  His thoughts were interrupted by a stinging bite to his ankle.

"Ow!  Damn it, Ed.  You're not the frickin' dog!" Spike hissed, rubbing his sore leg.  

She bared her teeth and growled "Give Edward her Tomato!"

"You, know Ed, I really hate kids," he growled back, his eyes narrowing.  

She was jumping up and down in front of him, hands wildly outstretched towards her precious computer and goggles.  He sighed and handed them to her.  He'd gotten what he wanted. 

Faye.  That sneaky bitch had enlisted Ed to keep him on the ship.  Did she really think he was that stupid?  I need a drink, he thought, intending to get off the Bebop for a while.  It was just too damn crazy right then.  Shit!  I can't leave!  Spike's rage simmered back to a boil just thinking of his crippled ship.  Oh, she's gonna pay for this one, he thought angrily, walking out the door with every intention of finding her. No.  If I see her now, I swear I'll kill her.  He paused, and looked back at Ed cradling her laptop like an infant.  

"One more thing, Ed.  Fix my ship.  Now.  If I can't fly out of here in 30 minutes, I will kill your Tomato," he said, not a shred of humor in his voice.

Half an hour later Spike was flying towards the nearest rock with a bar.  Tijuana was always a good place to get a whole lot of liquor for not a lot of cash.

Two hours later Spike found himself sitting in one of the worst hole-in-the-wall bars he had ever seen.  He had left in hopes of lifting his spirits.  Now, with several stiff drinks in him, he was a whole lot calmer, but definitely not happier. He understood why she had messed up the Swordfish.  She wouldn't have done anything that drastic if she didn't care about him a little bit.  Or maybe she just wanted to get revenge herself.  He was still pissed, but now he probably wouldn't kill her. 

What was this place called, again? he asked himself, not that it mattered.  The lights were low, mostly due to the fact that at least half of them didn't work. It was just as well.  More light certainly wouldn't have made the décor look any better.  The floor was sticky, and full ashtrays littered every table.  All of the furniture was distressed-from the grey stuffing spilling out of holes torn in the vinyl booths, to the worn places and water marks left by countless drinks scraping along the table-tops.  The place reeked of stale alcohol and unwashed bodies, but that was due mostly to the patrons.  It looked as though most of them hardly left the place.  Old men rotting on the same chairs they had first sat on decades earlier.  The stool he had chosen was rocking unsteadily under him. It had definitely seen better days-just how long ago those days were he didn't care to guess.  All this stuff has got to be as old as Faye, he mused.  There.  It had happened again.  He couldn't go for half a minute without thinking about her.  When. Exactly had she taken Julia's place in his thoughts?  He couldn't really pinpoint a time.  It hadn't been an earth-shattering event.  It hadn't even happened all that quickly.  

Three years ago Julia had been his entire existence, his reason for being.  Her choosing not to escape the Red Dragons with him had been a blow, not only to his heart, but his ego.  She had been the one beautiful thing in his life that was not full of violence and bloodshed.  And she had abandoned him.  Him. Spike Spiegel.  The syndicate's darling. When things had gotten too difficult she had left him on his own.  She was a beautiful angel brought on the wings of a dream, passing in and out of his life so quickly; sometimes he wondered if she had ever really been there.  If she had been a normal woman and not some ethereal being, he could have forgotten her in a matter of months.  It had taken him nearly three years to realize that it had been the idea of beauty and domestic bliss that she had embodied that he had been in love with for so long, not her.  Not the woman who left him when life got tough.  A home, a family, no running-that was the unattainable dream that seemed so wonderful next to his blood-soaked reality.  But a dream, no matter how wonderful, couldn't help a man in the harsh light of day, no matter how badly he wished it.

It had been just him and Jet for years, working together like well-oiled cogs in a machine.  Hunting bounties, collecting money, spending money, being friends-all of it had been great.  And then came Faye.  The first time he saw her, cheating at the casino, he had found her attractive.  And then she had opened that damn mouth.  Just how she had wedged herself into their crew still perplexed him.  Neither of them liked her-but Jet, for all his brutish demeanor, had a soft spot for hard-luck cases.  And Spike was just chauvinistic enough to not argue too much when that hard-luck case was a woman.  Even when that woman lied, cheated, and stole from those she called her "comrades".  

So why the hell did he like her so much?  He stared moodily at his empty glass of…well, whatever it was.  It looked and tasted like cat piss, but it was getting the job done.  He motioned for the bartender and pointed at his glass.  The man simply nodded and refilled it, but this time left the bottle.  

He had to admit she had gotten better about most of those things.  But her mouth still never stopped.  Probably never would.  Most of the time she went out of her way to be a bitch: being messy, making snide remarks, wasting money, generally annoying the hell out of everyone.  But then there were those times when she thought no one was watching, and for the briefest moment would let her shield drop.  He had seen glimpses of that scared girl inside her who had no family and no past.  Her life began when she was 20, over 50 years later than it should have.  It was funny thinking she was old enough to be his grandmother.  She only acted the way she did to protect herself, to prove she was strong enough.  It was admirable.  Faye was a survivor.  Just like him.  That was why he put up with her. That and she was pretty hot.  We're just two lost souls drifting in space, he thought miserably.  You could have had her, but you had to be an asshole, Spike.  He raised his glass in a mock toast to himself.  But that's just part of your charm, he thought as he poured the rest of his drink down his throat in one hot, burning gulp.  

"Hey there, sugah," a high pitched female voice purred into his ear.  Spike looked up from his empty glass, trying hard to focus.  

"Damn, I'm drunk," he said, a bit louder than he'd intended.

"You're soooo cute!" the bubbly blonde giggled, placing her hand on his thigh. She was as trashy as the bar they were in.  Big, teased bleached hair hung to her shoulders.  Sky blue eyes covered under massive amounts of equally blue eye shadow winked at him in what he supposed she had meant to be a sexy, inviting look; she opened her mouth slightly, licking frosted fuchsia lips.  She was absolutely hideous.  

She bent over, breasts spilling out of a bright orange and pink halter top.  "Ya want some company?" she whispered into his ear. "I'll show ya a real good time, cowboy."  Her breasts were right in front of his nose.  

Spike looked down, focusing on a pair of over-tanned legs pouring out of tight denim cutoffs that hid next to nothing.  This is so not what I need right now, Spike thought in disgust.  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.

"I'm only going to say this once.  Leave.  Me.  Alone." He stared at her, not even a hint of a smile on his face.

"Oh, ya don't mean that, now do ya," she pressed, bouncing a little to get her breasts to jiggle.

"Listen, lady.  I'm not interested in trashy, two-bit sluts.  I may not have gotten any in a while, but I will NEVER be that desperate.  Now go away!"  

She stood up and slapped him sharply.  His head swung as if his neck was made of rubber. 

"I AM NOT A WHORE, YOU DRUNK BASTARD!" she screamed.  She was making a huge scene.

"Hey, miss.  Is the loser insultin' ya?" a burly voice slurred somewhere behind Spike.

"Shit!" Spike muttered, standing slowly. "This is really not what I needed tonight."

He turned around and looked at her champion.  He was short, and wide.  His brown hair was dirty and plastered to his forehead by beads of sweat that were slowly rolling down into his unkempt beard. Tanned wrinkled skin hung from his neck.  The man had to be at least 50.

"You don't want to fight me, old man.  Trust me," Spike said dismissively. 

"Oh, an' why is that, ya no-good punk?" the man sneered, taking a step forward, rolling up one dirty white sleeve. "Ya 'fraid o' me, boy?  Scairt I'm gonna clean yer clock?"  He was still approaching Spike.

"You really are a cocky old bastard, aren't you?" Spike said shaking his head.  Why did people always make him kick their asses?

"I'll show ya cocky, ya little runt!" 

Spike shrugged his shoulders, lit up a cigarette, and leaned back against the bar.  It was very evident to the growing crowd that he was anything but scared.  Spike's passiveness had the desired effect.  The old drunk growled angrily and came running at him like a bull, his head lowered.  Spike just stood there looking bored.  An instant before he would have been crushed between the man and the bar, Spike stepped aside.  He grabbed a fistful of dirty brown hair and slammed the guys face into the counter, blood spurting from his broken nose.  Spike pulled the man's head up, then slammed it down again onto the blood-slicked surface.  The crunch of teeth and bone cracking was followed by a hollow thump as the man slid to the floor unconscious.

"Still wanna fight?" Spike asked the body crumpled at his feet, taking a drag off his half-gone cigarette.  He threw a few woolongs into the pool of blood dripping off the bar, put his coat on, and walked out whistling.

***

Faye winced.  Spike had been yelling since he discovered the condition his ship was in.  Shit!  He's going to kill me, she thought biting her lip.  She had run to the bathroom the minute she had heard him screaming for Jet.  He knew someone had sabotaged the Swordfish; and from the sound of him pounding on the door of her room, he had already guessed who was responsible.  And poor Ed was in there to take the brunt of his anger.  He won't hurt her, Faye told herself, she's just a kid.  It's me he's going to throttle.  I am so stupid sometimes!  She could here Ed screeching at him and him yelling at her.  Then he had left Ed to herself.  Oh, crap, he's coming to find me.  That little brat squealed! Faye pounded her fist into her forehead. 

"Stupid, stupid, stupid Faye," she muttered.  He was going to be banging on the bathroom door any second, she just knew it.  She sat there, knees hugging her chest as she stared expectantly at the door, waiting.  She sat there until she heard the unmistakable sound of the Swordfish taking off.  She heaved a sigh of relief, her muscles still tense.  He hadn't come after her…yet.

She slowly opened the door and peaked out, hoping she hadn't imagined the sound of Spike leaving.  When nothing jumped out at her she shuffled into the hallway and headed straight for her quarters.

"Faye-" a deep voice rumbled behind her.

She jumped involuntarily at the sound of Jet's voice.  How had he snuck up on her?

"Yeah?" she gulped, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Mess with Spike's ship."

"What are you-"

"I'm not stupid Faye so you might as will give up the act now.  I know it was you that put Ed up to that little stunt."

"Fine!  I did it, Jet!  All right!  I admit it!  I just…" her voice faltered.  She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.  I am not going to cry.  Don't cry, Faye.  Keep it together, she coached herself.  She could feel the tears threatening to escape any moment.

"I know, Faye.  I don't want him to die either.  But you can't keep a man from doing what he needs to do," Jet said softly, almost tenderly.  He placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, remembering the last time he had touched her in the hospital.  Instead of pushing him away, she let his hand rest there.

"But why?  Why can't I stop him?" She shuddered under his hand, tears falling unbidden down her face.  Angrily she shook him away and turned to face him.  "Why are all of you men so damned stupid!" Faye practically screamed, her fingernails biting the flesh of her palms.

"Faye," Jet said gently.  "I know this is hard for you to accept, but you gotta let him go."

"Only a man would say something that ludicrous and be dense enough to actually believe it!  You don't give a flying fuck about anything except sex, money, and your personal vendettas with other pig-headed men!  All of you make me sick!" She was screaming now, wildfire flaring in her green eyes.  God, she hated men!  All of them!

"Calm down, Faye!" Jet commanded, to no avail.  She wasn't listening anymore.  He shook his head and walked down the hall.  His bonsai needed watering.

Even through the steel walls and door of his room full of tiny trees he could here her ranting.  I hope she doesn't break anything serious, he thought sadly as he sprayed his precious plants.  He didn't come out again until he was sure Faye had gone to her room.  He didn't know how to handle that kind of female.  Didn't really want to.  

***

Faye lay face down on the pillow, her breath coming in ragged gasps.  She had broken just about everything there had been to break in her room.  Everything was lying in pieces on the floor.  At the time shattering everything because she felt broken inside had made sense.  Now, all she could think of was the huge mess she had to clean up.  She patted the breast pocket of her long-sleeved button up shirt, assuring herself that her cigarettes were still there.  She plucked one out and held it for a moment before placing it between her lips.  Her mouth was dry, but she lit it anyway.  She lay flat on her back, watching the smoke curl in lazy circles until it clung to the ceiling before being sucked into the ventilation.  She could feel the sticky tears dried on her face. She knew she looked like crap, but it just didn't matter at the moment.  Nothing did.  She was empty.  The only thing that filled her was the smoke in her lungs, but that too escaped.  

Faye lay watching the smoke, seeing things in it that only she could see.  When her entire pack was gone she still laid there, her eyes vacant.  She fell asleep that way, dreaming of Spike.

Chapter 7 coming soon! Please R&R.


	9. Make Way for the Huntress

Chapter 7.  This took awhile to get done, but here it is. Cowboy Bebop is not mine in any way, shape or form.  Damn!  This is for your enjoyment only.

Nothing Good Comes from Earth

Chapter 7:  Make Way for the Huntress

_The door creaked open, light flooding in from the hallway.  A tall slender figure stood silhouetted in the doorway.  She was sitting now, wrapped in a green satin nightgown that matched her eyes.  He stepped closer, ever closer, never saying a word.  And then he was there, caressing her body.  His lips molded themselves to hers as he captured her in a passionate kiss.  His body was warm as it brushed against hers, slowly pushing her down onto the bed.  It was so right for him to be touching her, treasuring her this way.  She ran white slender fingers through his green mane, reveling in his touch._

_"I love you, Spike," she whispered against his shoulder._

_"I love you, too."_

_Then someone else was there, laughing at them.  His hair was a silver nimbus as he raised his katana over her lover's back.  _

_"Nooooo!  Please!" she screamed in horror, even has he plunged the glinting blade through Spike's ribcage._

_Vicious grinned, his usually dead eyes burning with hate._

_"Faye…"Spike groaned as he fell forward, blood dripping from his mouth staining her satin covered breasts…_

Faye shot up, her throat hoarse from silently screaming.  He had killed him!  He was dead! She looked around her dark room, Spike nowhere in site.  It had been another nightmare, by far the worst she'd had in a week. She clutched the sheets with white knuckles as she tried to gain some sort of composure.  

"Just a dream.  Just a dream," she chanted rocking back and forth.  It wasn't real.  Spike was ok, wasn't he?  She looked at the clock.  It was only two a.m.  She hadn't seen Spike since earlier that morning when he had caught her exercising.  She felt her skin flush hot with the memory of him touching her.  He had wanted her. Well, her body anyway.  Now he probably hated her.

Her mind focused on her nightmare again.  It had felt too real, more like a vision than a dream that could be easily dismissed.  Spike is going to die if he gets involved with my problems any more than he already is, she thought shakily.  She had to do away with Vicious herself.  She couldn't be free from the terror that plagued her every second, asleep or awake, until she watched him die.  Fear filled her, threatening to turn into panic as she thought of being alone.  She hadn't left the Bebop since they had brought her back from the hospital.  She was afraid to leave the haven provided by its steel walls.  Faye felt her resolve slipping.

"No, Faye.  You have to do this," she scolded herself.  She had told Spike the truth about her attacker in a moment of weakness.  She wasn't going to let him get killed because she couldn't keep her mouth shut.  

She made herself get off the bed and gathered her bathing supplies.  I'm probably not going to live past tomorrow, anyway, she thought as she stripped out of her sloppy attire.  If she was going to die, she was going to enjoy one last hot bath.  She threw on a tiny pink silk robe that just covered her upper thighs.  She looked at her naked legs, fighting the automatic urge to cover up.  She was tired of being afraid.

She made it to the bathroom unchallenged.  She reached over and turned the tap on almost as hot as it would go.  She sat on the edge of the old claw-foot tub, lazily watching her hand flit in and out of the rising water.  Her skin was bright red wherever the burning hot liquid lapped at her fingers.  Water was almost slopping over the side when she quit daydreaming and turned the tap off.  She stood and undid the shiny pink robe, letting the thin fabric flutter around her ankles.  She lifted one foot and dipped it experimentally.  It was almost too hot, but not quite scalding.  She lowered her white body slowly into the small tub, watching her skin turn from milk to deep rose as the bath enveloped her.  She wished she could steep her pains and fears away as easily as she soaked off dirt.  Too bad it would take a bath in Vicious' blood to cleanse that part of her.

As she relaxed into the steaming water, her mind wandered to her dream, the part before Vicious had come.  She smiled a little wistfully, wishing it were true.  He can't possibly love me, she thought bitterly.  How could anyone love someone like me, a ruined shell of a woman, when they've had a perfect angel like Julia?  She sunk lower into the tub until only her face was above the waterline.  Dark purple hair floated around her as she stared at the overhead light. How easy it would be to let the water close over her face.  Just let it fold her into it; let it smother her like a warm blanket until she escaped the harshness of her existence.  It would be so easy…

 She lay that way, just floating, until the water grew tepid.  

Faye walked quietly to the living room, hoping nobody was awake to hear her.  It was dark, the only light an unearthly glow from Ed's computer screen behind the couch.  Ed lay curled up in front of it, clutching Ein to her chest like a teddy bear.  She looked so young, so innocent and sweet when she was sleeping.  Faye rarely paid attention to such things.  She smiled a little at the young girl, thinking of how nice it would be to have had a childhood.  Not being able to remember it made it seem like something that had never happened to her, as if she had always been an adult.  It was a shame to have to wake the girl up. Faye kneeled on one knee next to Ed's face, resisting the maternal urge to cover the half-naked child with a blanket.  She settled for patting her shoulder.

"Ed, hey, wake up!" Faye hissed into the younger girl's ear.  

She rolled over but didn't get up.  

"Ed, come on, get up," she whispered a little louder, shaking her gently.  She was rewarded with big yellow eyes blinking.

"Faye-Faye?" Ed yawned, closing her eyes again.

"No Ed, you can't go back to sleep yet.  Now get up!"

"Edward is tired; go away Faye-Faye."

"Ed, get up now and I'll give you a treat," Faye coaxed the sleepy hacker. Ed's eyes snapped open.

"A treat?  A treat for Edward?" she asked, sitting up.

"Yes, but I need you to help me first."

"Last time Ed helped, Ed got in BIG trouble," she frowned, folding her arms across her chest.

"I know Ed, but this time is different.  I promise.  You don't need to break anything," Faye tried to give her a reassuring smile.  Ed's eye's widened as if she had just seen Faye for the first time, her frown forgotten.

"What happened to Faye-Faye's clothes?  Faye-Faye is all pretty again," Ed said, turning her head every which way trying to inspect Faye's new look from every possible angle.  

Her hair was sleek, framing smoky green eyes and lips the color of dried blood. She wore a sleeveless black v-necked top embroidered with red and gold Chinese dragons.  Simple black bootcut pants and black leather boots completed the look.  She was dressed to kill.   She placed a cigarette between her red lips and lit it.

"Stop looking at me like that.  It's creepy," she said through a puff of smoke.

"What does Ed get for helping?" she inquired, still looking her friend over.

"I'll give you whatever you want out of my room," Faye promised, thinking there wasn't much left after her tirade the day before.

Ed's eyes glistened.  "Anything Ed wants?"

"Yes.  Anything.  Are you going to help me or what?" Faye was getting irritated.

"OK!  What does Faye-Faye need?"

"To find Vicious," she stated flatly.

"No," Ed declared firmly, crossing her arms across her chest.

"What?" Faye asked, her voice rising.  She clenched her fists.

"Edward said no, Faye-Faye."

'I heard you the first time!" Faye snapped.  This was not happening.  She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to shake the cooperation out of the smiling little twerp.

Ed looked at her quizzically, "Faye-Faye ok?" 

Faye snapped.  She jerked the teenager up by the front of her tank top and held her nose to nose.  Faye's eyes narrowed to dark green slits, anger radiating off her in waves.  Gone was Ed's usual psychotic grin.  If Faye hadn't known better she would have thought the girl was afraid.

"Why won't you help me?" she ground through clenched jaws.

Ed stared at her, mute. 

"Why…"

Ed still just looked at her, a sad, almost pitiful, expression distorting her usually happy features.

"Same reason Ed didn't want Spikey-Spike to go.  Ed does not want her friends to die."

Faye ignored the nagging voice inside her head asking her why it was ok for her to go get killed and not Spike.  She shook it off, focusing on the redheaded menace dangling in front of her.  Ed had sent them all off cheerfully dozens of times after looking up info on bounties, no matter how high the risk.  Why was now different?  The answer slowly took shape.

"Who put you up to this Ed? Huh?  Jet or Spike?  Which one!" She shook the girl slightly.

A huge grin split Ed's face, her usual insane expression returning as if it had never left.  Faye was relieved.  Seeing Ed normal, or as close as she had ever seen her to such a thing, was unnerving.

"Faye-Faye guessed!" she cried, managing to clap her hands gleefully over her head.  Faye was still holding her in the air.  "Ed told Jet-person Faye-Faye would guess."

Jet.  Of course it was Jet.  He was the control freak around there, not Spike.  Jet looked after all of them like some sort of father-figure.  He may not like me, but he won't let this woman out on a suicide mission if he can help it.  A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.  How many times had she heard that phrase from him?  But what about what a woman's gotta do?  She silently asked.

Faye sighed, and dropped Ed to the floor, kneeling next to her so as not to lose her grasp on the rambunctious ape.  

"What did he bribe you with, huh?"  She half smiled.  Jet was getting as bad as her.

Ed reached down and magically produced a small, flat, rectangle half wrapped in shiny foil.  

"Jet-person gave Ed candy.  Chocolate chocolate candy!"

Faye let go disgustedly, but not before snatching most of Ed's candy bar in one big bite.

"HEY!  That was Edward's candy!  Edwards treat!" Ed whined, pawing at Faye's mouth to recapture the half-masticated lump of chocolate, dropping the rest of the bar onto the floor.  Ein snatched it without waking up.

"That's what you get for siding with them, kid," Faye said smugly as she wiped chocolate from the corners of her lips.  She stood and grabbed her black peacoat that had been flung over the back of the couch, turned on her heel, and stalked toward the hanger bay.

"Does Ed still get a treat from Faye-Faye's room?" the young girl asked hopefully as she stared at the shredded wrapper, all that remained of her bribe from Jet.

"No, now go to bed, it's too early to be up," Faye said, not bothering to look back.  She felt a little guilty for taking Ed's candy.  Serves her right, she tried to convince herself.  Then the nagging voice started to chide her again.  She only wanted to keep you from running off to get killed.  You're getting as bad as Spike, Faye, not caring about the people you leave behind who'll have to pick up your carcass.  

"I'm not like him!" she hissed to herself.  She shook her head, trying to get such stupid thoughts out of her mind.  Only part of her was convinced.

She put a hand on her long unused ship.  She hadn't touched it since she had crashed.  Jet had done a good job fixing it, as usual.  He had even washed it for her.  The Redtail was old, but it rarely failed her.  She looked around the large room, mostly concealed in darkness. The Hammerhead was parked in its usual space.  The Swordfish was gone. She hadn't really expected Spike to be back yet.  Not after what she had done.  She allowed herself a little remorse for never telling him how she felt.  She sighed, leaning against her ship.  It was probably better for him not to know.  She could die with her dignity intact; and if by some off chance that she killed Vicious, then she could come back without being embarrassed.  Things could be the way they always were before.  She and Spike would fight, Ed would be crazy, and Jet would be fed up with all of them.  Just the way things should be.  No more strange emotional encounters with Spike.  No more Ed in her room.  No more Jet treating her like she was breakable.  No more pity.  Things could just be normal. 

But you don't want normal. You want to be close to them, even the stupid dog.  You want to be wanted, not just tolerated, the nagging voice inside her screamed.  Since when does Faye Valentine get what she wants? She sadly replied, pressing her cheek against the cool metal of the Redtail.  

She opened the hatch and climbed inside.  She started the tiny ship, the controls trembling under her fingers as it powered up.  She opened the hangar doors and floated out into space.  Firing the thrusters, she looked longingly back at the ship that had become her home.  Wishing for things never helped.  

"Goodbye," she whispered, kissing her fingers and pressing them against the icy glass of the cockpit. 

She sped toward the tiny blue and brown planet below her.  

"I hate Earth," she muttered as she entered the upper atmosphere.  She had to start looking somewhere, and that meant going back to that miserable little bar in New San Francisco.

This story is far from over.  Hope to have 8 out soon.  Remember to R&R.


	10. Trust

Disclaimer;  CB still is not mine

Ok, I revised this a bit, hope you like it.

Chapter 8:  Trust

Gray water calmly lapped the pale shoreline.  A light gust of winded ruffled his seaweed green hair.  He shivered and pulled his coat tighter around his lanky frame.  It was predawn on the California coastline, the world not quite awake yet.  Only a few lonely gulls were skimming low over the ocean hunting for their first meal.  Spike had wandered the streets of Tijuana most of the night.  He hadn't really wanted to spend any more time in that city after the bar fight, but he had been too drunk to fly, and he wasn't ready to autopilot back to the Bebop.  He still had had too much on his mind to face Faye or Jet.  So he had walked until he was sober; then flew aimlessly until he had found himself on the northern California coast.  

He stared at the colorless seawater surging up the beach, barely reaching the tips of his shoes that were sunk into the wet sand, before receding back to the ocean.  The rhythm was so natural, so perfect, one movement flowing into the next. He could stand there forever hypnotized by the ebb and flow of the water.  It was so calm and serene, everything he aspired to be but wasn't.

The sunrise was so gradual he hardly noticed until the water was sparkling blue instead of gray.  Spike sighed and lit a cigarette as his stomach grumbled, reminding him he'd eaten nothing since he'd left the Bebop the day before.  He couldn't avoid her forever.  His anger had died somewhere between the bar and sobering up.  Faye hadn't done it out of spite, and he knew it.  He had known that the second he'd figured out who had sabotaged the Swordfish.  But he hadn't been ready to think about her reasons for doing it.  He had been too angry to be rational.

"Hmm, maybe she really does care about me," he contemplated.  

Or at least she did until yesterday, he thought.  The gulls were out in full force, swooping and diving into the glittering ocean.  Their calls carried on the rising wind to the shore where Spike stood.  The temperature was rapidly rising as the sun climbed higher over the endless blue water.  His stomach complained again as he finished his cigarette.  Yup, time to go, he decided, flicking the butt into the ocean.  He turned and walked back to the Swordfish.  

The com was beeping when he climbed into the cockpit.  He flipped the switch.

"Yeah, what is it?" he asked as Jet's face appeared on the screen.

"Is Faye with you?" Jet asked.  He sounded worried.

"Why would she be with me?  Isn't she there?"

"No.  Ed said she left early this morning after they had some sorta fight.  I thought she might have gone to find you." A frown crossed Jet's face as he rubbed his balding head.

"Well, she didn't," Spike said, trying to sound casual as his heart threatened to jump right out of his chest.  What the hell was she thinking?

"Well, all right, um,"

"Jet, what aren't you telling me?" Spike demanded.  He knew his friend was hiding something.

Jet sighed, "Ed thinks she went off to kill Vicious."

"What!" he nearly jumped out of his seat.

"I don't think she knows where to find him.  Ed refused to help her."

"Good." He still had time to find her before she got herself killed.  "Stupid woman!" he muttered.

"What was that, Spike?"

"Nothing.  Where do you think she'd start looking?"

"Probably back where it all happened.  Track the son-of-a-bitch from there.  That's what I'd do if I didn't know where he was hiding."

"Right.  I'll look for her there.  Call me if you find anything out," he said, turning the com off. 

"Stupid woman!" he shouted, banging his fist on the console.  How could she be that reckless!  Didn't she care about what anyone else had to say?  

He switched on the main thrusters and took off in burst of wet sand and exhaust.  It was only 40, maybe 50 miles to New San Francisco.  He could be there in 15 minutes if he ignored the surface speed limits.  His heart was in his throat, anger and fear pushing him to be reckless. He didn't know if he believed in God, but he prayed she was there and in one piece, just in case.

Less than 20 minutes later he was circling the city looking for any sign of the Redtail.  Skyscrapers and apartment buildings were massed together.  The new city hadn't been planned very well.  Warehouses and shopping centers were crammed into the same areas. Further out south were the residential areas.  Even the poorest zoning hadn't placed the shanty towns and mansions together.  No matter where you are, the rich are always separated from the poor, Spike thought as he flew toward the north end.  She wasn't parked in any of the main lots the city had to offer.  Paying for parking wouldn't be like Faye. He increased his speed and sped toward the north end of town.  It was likely she had started her search back at that bar.  

There it was, parked on the edge of town.  He heaved a sigh of relief.  She was still here.  He turned and landed next to the Redtail.  Spike noticed the cockpit was empty, not that he'd expected her to be waiting there.  That would be too easy.  

It was hot.  The sun glared mercilessly on compacted dirt and pavement.  The occasional Joshua tree and clump of sagebrush were all that grew there.  Not many people were out; it was still early, not even eight yet.  Finding her shouldn't be too difficult, he thought strolling down the street.  Not many places were open and she was on foot.  Of course she did have a few hours start on him.  No matter, she didn't have many places to go.

Six hours later he still hadn't found her.  He had been to every clothing store, restaurant, grocery store, pretty much everywhere, and not one person had seen her.  Where the hell was she?  She wouldn't have gone into the main city on foot, would she?  No, Faye didn't like to walk that much.  She had to be around there somewhere.    
Five o'clock rolled around, and no trace of Faye.  He was tired, hungry, but mostly worried.  Had Vicious already found her?  Please, don't let that be it, he begged, starting to run back to the Swordfish.  He hoped the Redtail was still there.

Every step he ran was a silent plea for her safety.  He rounded the last block and stopped, breathing and sweating heavily.  Both ships were still parked side by side.  He walked up to them, knowing they were both empty, but still half hoping she was there waiting for him.  Sometimes he hated being right all the time.

"Shit!" Spike swore, kicking his ship.  What next?  He could wait there and hope she showed up.  Or he could start searching the local bars now that they were close to opening.  Knowing Faye, she'd be at the bars trying dig up information.  He looked across the street.  There was the spot he had found her half dead body weeks ago.  Right in front of The Triangle Pony.  That's where she would go.  He walked towards the shabby building.  He needed to eat and relax.  Beer and pretzels sounded like a pretty good dinner.  He'd wait for her there.

He walked in and sat in a shadowed booth.  The matronly bartender was nowhere in sight.  Instead, a young blonde man was working the counter.  

"Can I help you, sir," a bored Mexican waitress interrupted Spike's thoughts.

'Yeah, I'd like a beer," he said with hardly a glance at her.

She rolled her eyes and sauntered off unhurriedly to get his drink.

He reached into the bowl of pretzels sitting on the table.  He was starving.  By the time she returned with his beer he had devoured the entire bowl.  She scowled at him with dark eyes.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"Yeah.  More pretzels," he said, still chewing.  He gave her a stupid grin, crumbs falling from his crooked lips.

She grabbed the bowl and walked off in a huff.  

He had been nursing his third beer for a good hour.  The sun had set a while ago, and the bar was packed.  It was Saturday night, just his luck karaoke night; and much to his dismay it was obviously in full swing. One thing that should have died out in the 20th century but didn't. He had watched dozens of men and women walk in and out the swinging door, none of them anyone he was looking for.  Where was she?

He didn't think he could take the off key singing of drunk people for much longer.  Just then a woman dressed all in black walked in.  She looked familiar.  It took him a moment to realize it was Faye.  She walked to the bar and took a seat. Her eyes were downcast and her red lips turned down into a pretty pout. 

"Vodka," she ordered the blonde man, who was blatantly trying to look down her shirt.

Spike frowned, not sure why other men looking at Faye suddenly bothered him.  He snuck up behind her.

"Find what you were looking for?" he said softly behind her.  He was trying not to sound angry.

She jumped, startled by the sound of his voice.  She swiveled around on her stool and glared at him.  "What's it to you?" She replied, placing a cigarette between her crimson lips.

He tried not to stare.  She was a dark angel.  True she'd always been pretty, but now she was different, and it was more than the outfit.  It had been a while since he'd seen her all dressed up.  The fact that she wasn't only half-dressed made her more attractive. 

"Let me guess, big daddy Jet sent you looking for me.  Did it ever occur to any of you retards that I don't need to be looked for?" she smirked, taking a drag off her cigarette. "I'm not a baby, ya know." 

"You've made your point Faye.  Let's go," Spike growled, grabbing her arm and jerking her off the stool.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing!" she shrieked digging her heals into the wooden planked floor as he dragged her towards the door. "Let go of me, you idiot!"

"Shut up!  You're way more trouble than you're worth!" he shouted back as he pulled her outside.  His real eye was twitching in anger and underlying relief; he was fighting between smacking her and hugging her. 

"Damn you Spike, this is none of you business!"

"I said shut up!" he yelled, pushing her against the wall.  His body was pressed against hers, pinning her against the concrete wall. Faye was glaring jade daggers at him, her chin turned up defiantly.  Dark red lips curled in contempt, taunting him as he pinned her body against the wall.  His breathing was heavy and ragged, his body rigid against hers.  He held her unwavering gaze, silently challenging her to defy him.

"Make me!" she hissed, green fire flashing in her eyes.

His grip on her shoulders tightened as he bent over, devouring her mouth with his own.  His kiss was hot and urgent.  She stiffened for a moment before attacking him with a needy kiss of her own, her tongue invading his mouth.  It was nothing like either of them would have expected.  There was no gentleness in the act.  It was a battle for the upper hand, and both were determined to win.

"You are such an ass," she breathed against his lips, still assaulting them with her own.

"Stupid wench," he growled, nipping her lower lip before nuzzling her smooth white neck.  

If he didn't stop he was going to take her right there.  He reluctantly pulled away and held her at arms length.  She looked at him, desire still glazed over her eyes, but there was confusion underneath.  

"What?" she asked, her breath coming in shallow gasps

"Not here," he said, dragging her toward the motel across the street.

She stumbled along behind him, still a little dazed.  She had never lost control like that with any other man.  Where was he taking her now?  She didn't realize what he had in mind until he was pulling through the door and demanding a room.

"Spike?" she asked hesitantly, gathering her wits about her. She knew what he wanted.  Anger had been replaced by fear.

"What?" he grinned, taking her hand in his, leading her down the dark hall and up the stairs.  He stopped in front of a door, and in a moment had it open.

Faye followed him inside and shut the door behind her.

The room wasn't much to look at.  The walls were white except where the cranberry drapes covered the windows.  A double bed with a comforter that matched the curtains, a small table, and a dresser with a TV on it were all that furnished the small room.  To the left was a door that led, Faye assumed, to the bathroom.  She stood unmoving by the door, watching Spike kick his shoes off and throw his blue jacket on the chair.  He loosened his tie and turned to look at her.  Frowning, he walked toward her.

"Faye, what's wrong," he murmured, stroking her cheek with a fingertip.

She looked at the beige carpet, dark purple hair covering her face.  He tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him.  Unshed tears glimmered in the green depths of her eyes.  She looked like a scared virgin.

He sighed and pulled her close, embracing her in what he hoped was a comforting hug.  They had both gotten caught up in the moment outside the bar; Faye had been too angry to be afraid.  Now that she'd had time to think, she was scared of him again.

"I'd never hurt you, you know," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

She simply nodded, not trusting her voice.  Her body was stiff as held her.  He pulled her to the bed and sat her down, then took his place next to her.

"Tell me what happened Faye."

"I can't."

"You need to talk to someone."

"No, you wouldn't understand.  No one would."

He pulled her closer to him, searching her face intently. 

"Make me understand," he said softly.

"I don't want to," she whispered desperately.

"Why?  Don't you think I know what kind of devil Vicious is?  Do you think I blame you for what he did?"

"Yes," she said simply, hanging her head in shame.

"Faye, I know it's not your fault. There was nothing you could do.  He used you.  You had no choice in it.  Don't you get that?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?" he demanded.  

She raised her eyes and looked at him miserably.  "You don't want me, Spike.  Not really.  I can never be her."

"Who?"

"Your perfect angel.  Julia."

"I don't want you to be Julia.  I want you to be Faye."

"But you love her," she said confused.

"No, not anymore," he said gently, leaning forward a little.

She sat there stunned.  He had not just said that, had he?  Could he possibly want me, she thought.  No, he was just after sex, that had to be it.  She turned her face away so his lips landed on her cheek instead of her mouth.  He peppered her face and neck with light kisses.  She sat there like a block of ice.

"I'm not going to let you use me," she whispered vehemently.

He stopped kissing her, and frowned.  What was she talking about?

"What do you mean 'use you'?  For what? Sex?" he almost laughed.  She really didn't get it.

"YES!" she yelled, standing up, her fist balling on her hips.

"Really Faye, if all I wanted was sex, do you really think I would spend my time trying to get into your pants when I could have my pick of willing girls any place I go?"  He was laughing now.

 "Well, don't we have the over inflated ego!  Any place you go! Ha!  You wish.  You're not as cute as you think you are, Fluffy!" she shouted pushing him backwards.  

In a move too quick for her to follow, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her down with him, rolling her underneath his body. He pinned her arms above her head and grinned wickedly.

"Any time, any place."

Faye's heart was pounding.  His body pressing against hers was making her nerves tingle.  She was aware of every inch of him touching her.  Unconsciously she wet her lips with the tip of her pink tongue, leaving her mouth open slightly.  That was all the invitation he needed.  He plunged his tongue through her parted lips, tasting her.  The heat of desire burned inside her and everyplace he touched.  She was losing herself in his fiery kisses that had strayed from her mouth down her neck.  She groaned in pleasure as his hands started exploring other parts of her. A hand wandered up the inside of her thigh, sending hot shivers through her abdomen. Fingers lightly brushed over her hip, dancing smoothly up her stomach.  He stopped just below her breasts. His arm darted under her, lifting her slightly as his hand gripped her shoulder.  He pulled the neck of her top open, gingerly planting kisses on her collarbone.

She was losing herself in his touch.  They way he looked at her, begging her to trust him.  She was surprised to realize that she did.  Implicitly. She succumbed to her desire, running her hands down his muscled back until she came to the waist of his pants.  In one deft pull she had untucked his shirt and was caressing the skin underneath.  She gasped suddenly as his hands followed her example and simply pulled hers off. She was laying under him in nothing but a black satin bra, jeans and boots.  She flashed him a sexy smile, pushed him up slightly, and unbuttoned his shirt. If she was going to be topless so was he.  

He smiled down at the woman underneath him.  She met his gaze evenly, showing herself to him freely for the first time.  His heart swelled with elation.  She wanted him, trusted him, maybe even needed him.  He pulled her up into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss, delighting in her gentle touch.  Skin, smooth and pale as a blushing white rose pressed against him.  He gasped suddenly as an unexpected hand dipped into the front of his pants, her thumb rubbing the metal button.  He felt her smile against his lips.  She wanted to play games.  Well, Faye, if you insist…

The room was dark.  Clothes were scattered across the floor.  Spike clutched the sleeping woman to him.  She was sprawled on top of him, her arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders.  He still couldn't believe it.  He replayed their passionate lovemaking over in his head and still couldn't quite believe it had happened.  Yet there she was, lying naked in his arms.  It had been better than anything he'd ever imagined.  She had finally let go and trusted him.  A slow, satisfied smile crept upon his lips.  He fell asleep a happy man.

The sun had risen and was peeking through the drapes.  Spike had been awake since before dawn, thinking.  Faye was curled up next to him, smiling still in her sleep.  He looked down on her and frowned.  She wasn't going to give up hunting down Vicious just because he slept with her.  He couldn't let her get killed.  He quietly crept out of bed, and dressed.  Spike took one last look at the sleeping woman, and walked out the door.

This still isn't the end, but I'm getting there.


	11. Greenhaired Bastard

Thanks for all the lovely reviews for the last chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: Cb not mine…waaaah.  
  
Nothing Good Comes from Earth  
  
Chapter 9: Green-haired Bastard  
  
"Mmm," Faye moaned happily as she stretched. It had been a beautiful night. She couldn't remember being so satisfied with her life. She rolled over to Spike's side of the bed they were sharing, eyes still shut, intending to hug him. Her arm closed over cold sheets and pillows. Her eyes snapped open. Where was he?  
  
She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest, and looked around. The bathroom door was wide open and dark inside. The only clothing on the floor was hers. A surge of rage and hurt welled up from the pit of her stomach. He had left her. The bastard had fucked her and left her lying in a cheap motel bed like some whore. But at least whores get a few woolongs left on the nightstand for their services, she thought sourly.  
  
Faye leaned over the edge of the bed searching for her cigarettes.  
  
"Damn it, where are they?" she muttered, hanging off the bed far enough to swipe her hand underneath. Her fingers closed over the plastic wrapper eagerly as she sat up. At least he'd left her smokes. She pulled one out, surprised that her hands weren't shaking in fury. She didn't feel as calm as she looked. She sat on the bed smoking, staring blankly at the door. Maybe he just went to get breakfast, she tried to convince herself. Deep down she knew he wasn't going to be walking through that door any time soon.  
  
Reluctantly, she threw the blankets off and stood up. Wallowing in self pity was futile; it would just lead to tears, and she had shed enough of those because of him to last the rest of her life. Spike Spiegel could go fuck himself, for all she cared. She had left the Bebop to kill Vicious, not get laid. And certainly not to fall in love.  
  
The beige carpet was soft under her bare feet, but the air was frigid. It was probably 100 degrees outside, but the air-conditioner in the room worked a little too well. She hugged her arms around her naked torso, trying to warm up as she walked to the bathroom. The white tiles were icy. She missed her slippers…and her robe. Oh, well, she thought as she turned the shower on, can't have everything.  
  
She stared at the woman in the mirror. Her makeup had either smeared or worn off; her purple hair was a tangled mess; and damn it if her skin wasn't still glowing. She grimaced at her reflection, reminded of just who had made her look so disheveled. It had been too good to be true, and she had known it. He fed her a line, and she had so desperately wanted him, she had eaten it up.  
  
"Men really are assholes," she grumbled as she jumped into the steaming shower.  
  
As the hot water pummeled her body, she ran through the information she had gathered the day before. Apparently, the oh-so-kind bartender that had eagerly come to her rescue when she had crashed had been on Vicious' payroll. Faye had thought she had been playing the old woman, but she had been the one who ended up being played. She had walked into the heart of the city, looking for the local syndicate building, only to find Vicious had skipped on back to Mars. She smirked. It was amazing what kind of info a little cleavage and a few cleverly placed woolongs could buy from hormone driven males. All men must think with their penises, she thought acidly. Well, at least that usually worked in her favor.  
  
She scrubbed her skin fiercely until she was bright red all over. Deciding that she was clean enough, she turned the tap off, and reached for a towel.  
  
Back in the bedroom, she eyed her dirty clothes with distaste. She sighed and pulled them on. She could change on the Bebop before she left for Mars. Once dressed, Faye turned to look at the little room. The bed was unmade, sheets and blankets strewn on the floor. It still smelled like them, musk mixed with smoke. Last night it had been heaven. It was nowhere close to that in the daylight. At least she wouldn't be stuck paying the bill. Spike had done that when they'd checked in.  
  
The morning sun hit her with a wave of heat as she left the air-conditioned building. She blinked and put on her sunglasses. If she had had any doubts before about Spike actually being gone, they were now confirmed as she saw the Redtail sitting in the dust by itself. If he's got any brains at all, he won't be back on the ship for a while, she thought darkly as she strode to her tiny craft. She'd kill him if she saw him too soon.  
  
She climbed through the hatch into the cockpit and noticed the light on her com unit blinking, indicating she's missed a call, or in this case 22 of them. All from Jet. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. He really was worried about her. She dialed the Bebop. He answered on the first beep.  
  
"Faye?" Jet said before focusing on who he was speaking to.  
  
"Yes, it's me."  
  
"Where the hell have you been? Damn it, woman!" The relief in his voice was obvious. She noticed he looked pretty haggard. He probably hadn't slept much; she felt a little guilty.  
  
"I was taking care of some personal business. Besides, I'm not a child who needs your permission to leave, Jet," she retorted.  
  
"Well, if you had any frickin' manners you would have at least called," he chastised her.  
  
"I'm on my way back, now."  
  
She turned the com off before he could give her a huge lecture. She'd get it soon enough.  
  
Faye noticed as she docked, with a mix of disappointment and relief, that Spike's ship wasn't there. Killing him would have to wait. Jet was in the hangar waiting for her. He pulled her into a fierce bear hug the second she stepped out her ship.  
  
"I'm fine, Jet," she groaned as he squeezed the air out of her. Jet had never hugged her before. A moment later he stepped away, turning a little red at his outburst of emotion. He patted her on the arm and cleared his throat.  
  
"I'm glad you're ok. But call next time, will ya? Ed was real worried."  
  
"And you weren't?" she teased, brushing past him.  
  
Suddenly Ed zoomed into the room straight at her.  
  
"Faye-Faye, Faye-Faye, Faye-Faye's back!" She squealed, tackling the taller woman to the ground.  
  
"Oomph. I'm glad to see you too, Ed. Now get off me!" Faye grunted trying to sit up. Ed lurched off her and started running circles around her and Jet.  
  
"Did Faye-Faye bring Ed a treat? Did she?"  
  
Faye suppressed a groan and pulled a new chocolate bar out of her coat pocket. She had felt guiltier than she had first thought and had bought one in town. She held it out to the bouncing child, who snatched it eagerly and ran off to enjoy her treat.  
  
Left alone, she looked at Jet, awaiting his inevitable questions. All she really wanted to do was change her clothes and put on some fresh makeup. But the new, more courteous Faye Valentine, stayed to face the sermon.  
  
"So," he began warily, "did Spike find you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Yeah what? When? Why didn't he call me?" he demanded, watching the blood rise to her cheeks.  
  
"Well...um…," she fumbled, trying to focus on anything but him. "We were…uh…busy."  
  
Ah, so that's how it is now, he thought. He wasn't going to let her get off that easy.  
  
"Doing what?" he asked innocently. Her face grew redder, the blush extending down her neck disappearing under her collar. She cast her eyes down, suddenly finding her boots very interesting.  
  
"You know, stuff," Faye squirmed.  
  
"Stuff huh. All night?"  
  
She glared at him. This was none of his business. "Yes all night! Why? Jealous?" She grinned evilly. It was Jets turn to be embarrassed. The tips of his ears and his balding head burned.  
  
"Nope," he gulped, shoving his hands in his pockets, no longer looking at her. "I've, uh, got some work to do."  
  
She left him in the hangar, smiling to herself.  
  
Back in her room, she lay smoking on her bed in nothing but red satin undergarments. She had been surprised to find her room clean. Ed or Jet must have picked up all that broken stuff, she thought. She was still fuming mad at Spike. But anger was good. It covered up the hurt. Mars. She had to go to Mars. She sat up, flicking the ashes into the proper receptacle for once, and stood before her closet. If she was going after Vicious, she needed to be comfortable, but still look good. She didn't want him to think he had crushed her. Didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing the scars he'd left on her soul. She was going to march in their, guns blazing, fully confident. She thumbed through her wardrobe of mini skirts, halter tops, and various other skimpy clothes. What was I thinking when I bought all this stuff? She thought. At last she stopped. Black leather pants, red microfiber tank top. Perfect. She pulled them on, then grabbed the black leather trenchcoat she had won at a poker game a year ago but had never worn. She wanted to carry plenty of ammo. Vicious seemed to be one of those indestructible types, like Spike. She scowled thinking about him.  
  
"Lunkheaded, green-haired bastard!" she muttered as she applied her makeup and brushed her hair until it shined.  
  
Just a quick trip to the weapon's locker and she'd be ready to take off. First she'd deal with Vicious, and if by some chance she was still alive, she'd deal with Spike, too. She allowed herself a small smile as she thought of just how she'd punish him as she left her room.  
  
  
  
Please remember to R&R! Thanks! 

* * *


	12. Fury in the Darkness

Disclaimer:  If you do not yet realize Cowboy Bebop does not belong to me by now, you are stupidJ

Sorry this took so long.  

Nothing Good Comes From Earth

Chapter 10:  Fury in the Darkness

The hallway was dark and empty.  Dim yellow light glowed on the walnut paneling behind iron sconces.  Blue and red floral commercial carpeting stretched down the corridor to the stairwell.  In brighter light the stains and wear marks would have been painfully obvious, but here they appeared as nothing more than shadows.  A door clicked open quietly, and a man in a rumpled blue suit reluctantly stepped out.  His face was taut and his lips pressed firmly together.  He ran a slender hand through dark unruly tresses, then silently pulled the door shut with an involuntary sigh.

Spike paused outside the door, resisting the urge to run back inside and say things neither of them was ready for. He knew he may not have another chance.  There was always the possibility of Vicious killing him instead of vice versa.  Normally the thought of death wouldn't have bothered him.  But now he had something to live for. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets to avoid pushing the door open.  If he was going to go, it had to be now.  He took a deep, shuddering breath and made his feet walk opposite of where they really wanted to go.  If he was going to have a chance to really be with her, Vicious had to die. It was the only way they could be free.

He allowed himself a bitter smile.  Faye wouldn't agree and he knew it.  But then, she would never understand exactly what was between him and Vicious to make them hate each other so. Sometimes he didn't comprehend it himself.  

The light increased as he followed the shabby carpet down the stairs to the main lobby. He stopped at the front desk to return the key. A short, rotund man sat behind the counter. He looked up from the book he was reading, a little annoyed with Spike for so rudely interrupting him.

"Can I help you?" he demanded in a wheezy voice, adjusting the few gray hairs he had left on his shiny head.

"I'm checking out," he said, sliding the key across the brown countertop.  "Don't wake up my friend.  She's still sleeping."

The clerk gave him a suspicious glance as he put the key away.  "Why doesn't she just check out then?"

"Because I am," Spike snarled, shooting a glare that clearly said the conversation was over.  

The old clerk backed down and busied himself with punching some information into the motel computer.  Spike turned without giving the man another glance.  He knew Faye would be left alone.  He lit a cigarette as he exited the building onto the sunlit street. 

 Shading his eyes with his empty hand, he watched the clouds travel across the azure sky.  A dust storm was swirling in the distance towards the brown western hills.  He adjusted his gaze to look at the Redtail and Swordfish sitting side by side, glinting in the sunlight.  A small pang of guilt pierced his heart as he thought of her waking up alone.  She'd probably think he had just left her, but he couldn't risk telling her where he was going.  She'd only try to make him stay.  If he got the chance, he'd explain things to her.  But first he had a man to kill.

Spike dropped the smoldering butt onto the hard packed earth beneath his feet and ground it out with his toe.  He marched toward his ship like a man walking to his own execution, his face a steel mask.  Instinctively he knew where to find Vicious.  He was on Mars, just waiting for him to take the bait he had laid and come for him.  I must not be the only one eager to end this once and for all, Spike thought indignantly as he swung into the Swordfish's cockpit.  He eyed the cell phone he had abandoned the day before.  

"You have missed 9 calls from Jet Black," said the monotone feminine voice of the phone's digital secretary. He stared at the annoying device in his hand.

I should call Jet and tell him where I'm going, he thought, then decided against it.  It would be better if nobody knew.  He didn't want them coming in, guns ablaze, trying to rescue him.  He threw the phone behind his seat and powered up his craft.  Spike took one last wistful look at the red brick building where Faye was sleeping.

"I'll be back for you," he promised in a harsh whisper.  Why was leaving her behind so difficult?

The Swordfish took off in a cloud of swirling dust that blew across the desert floor.  He fired the thrusters and shot off toward the upper atmosphere, a bloody arrow piercing the pristine blue and white sky.  He didn't even notice the beauty of his surroundings turning from blue to black as he entered the darkness of space.  He'd seen it too many times to care.  The space plane's wings dipped vertically as he turned sharply, racing toward the jump gate.  He couldn't seem to get to Mars fast enough.

Golden rain zipped around the Swordfish.  He'd been flying through the hyperspace forever it seemed.  He pulled out his Jericho for the millionth time, checking and rechecking his ammo.  His gun was always well maintained; he was just wasting time until he could point it at Vicious' ugly head and blow it off his shoulders.  Crooked lips turned up at the corners into a cynical smile.  Like killing Vicious is going to be that easy, he thought.  Not that he wanted it to be.  Vicious deserved more than a quick death.  After what he had done to him, to Julia, to Faye…

Images of Faye bombarded him:

_ Her tattered, nearly unrecognizable body lying in the street, blood congealing on her skin, her clothing shredded, barely covering her broken figure. Faye lying unconscious in the blue and white hospital gown; green eyes wide in fear every time he approached her. Tears burning red streaks onto her white skin…_

His fist smashed against the cold glass.  He pulled his knuckles away, warm blood dripping down the windshield and across the console.  He stared at the oozing red trail with blazing eyes, his hate amplified by the sting of his wound. Vicious would never have touched her if it hadn't been for him. Cold fingers wound themselves around his heart.  Killing Vicious wouldn't be enough.  He wanted to watch the bastard suffer at his hands, wanted to hear him scream and beg for a quick bullet until the life finally drained out of him. Only then would justice be satisfied.

Spike stopped in the middle of the bustling sidewalk and looked at the grey sky.  Clouds had started to gather and the scent of ozone was thick in the Martian air.  A sardonic smile crossed his face briefly.  There must be something about me and Vicious that attracts storms, he thought, pulling the collar of his trenchcoat up. 

He looked around at the various establishments lining the street; almost all of them were syndicate owned.  The Red Dragons weren't picky about the kind of businesses they used as cover-ups.  Everything from the Rainbow Tot Daycare to Jack's Tavern, one of the seediest bars in town, were on the list.  He couldn't just run into the main office gunning for Vicious.  That was a sure way to a casket.  He'd have to plan a little, gather some info, and try to catch him outside of the protection of his thugs.  

He looked up at the daycare building across the street.  It was covered in bright rainbows and smiley faces that reminded him of Ed.  There was no way he was going to hunt down Vicious in a place full of dirty, squalling brats.  Jack's it was.  He could use a drink anyway.  

A light rain started to fall as Spike continued down the street toward the bar.  He pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it.  He liked smoking in the rain.  His feet pounded the pavement as the drizzle turned into a downpour.  He sloshed through the growing puddles unhurriedly.  By the time he arrived at his destination he looked more like a drowned rat than a man.  But his cigarette was still glowing as he pulled open the heavy glass door.  

It was dark inside the bar, despite the windows in the front. To his right were a few  unused pool tables and dart boards.  Four heavy, square wooden tables were lined up by the windows to the left.  A few more round tables covered the small area before the bar.  Smoke clung to the overhead lights like a dense fog.  Losers of every type were there, most of them seated at the counter. Old men, young men—all drowning their sorrows in cheap alcohol. Along the edges he spotted a few men obviously on Red Dragon payroll. A tall skinny redhead, a stocky blonde, and a short black man with a goatee.  All were dressed in the usual syndicate apparel of black suits and white shirts.  They were very clean cut compared to the rest of the tavern's occupants. He shook his head in disappointment.  These men were either really overconfident or really stupid.  They stuck out like a woman dressed in a bikini at a formal dinner.  This was not a suit and tie establishment, yet there they sat, trying to blend in.  

He took a table beside them, his back facing the group, and ordered a whiskey.  He sat there listening to their conversation.  Yep, definitely idiots, he thought as they openly discussed syndicate business.  He slouched a bit in his seat, trying to look more like the rest of the depressed patrons.

"Yeah, I heard about that.  That was pretty stupid," one of the men was saying, his voice a deep baritone.

"Hey, Jathan, I wouldn't go saying that aloud if I were you.  Vicious might take it out on your hide if he hears you calling him stupid," a slightly shaky voice responded.

"Yeah, whatever.  Like he's gonna find out.  I just go in, do my job, and hope I don't screw up while he's around."

"You'd be surprised what he can find out.  And how quickly he does it.  That bitch was only on the search list for a week before he found her.  How he knew she was going to New San Fran is a mystery to me.  I was just there to pick her up a few days before she even arrived.  It was like he knew she was gonna be there.  It's creepy, I tell ya," the nervous man said gulping his drink.

Spike's fists white-knuckled around his glass.  Faye, they were talking about Faye.  And one of those bastards had kidnapped her.  He stopped himself from turning around and putting a bullet in the guy's head.  He couldn't attract attention to himself just yet.  He needed to know more.

"I know what you mean," a new voice piped up.

"Weren't you there when he dumped her body, Ty?" asked the kidnapper.

"Yeah, I don't even like thinking about it.  She looked awful!  It was almost like he threw her into a meat grinder, she was pulverized so bad.  I've done some sick shit, but never to a woman!  She must have really pissed him off," Ty gave a nervous laugh.

"Shit, man!  That's gross!"  Jathan again.

"Yeah.  You could here her screaming all the way down the fuckin' hall where we were waiting for him to finish with her.  Rumor has it he fucked six ways from Sunday while he cut her up." 

"Well, I can't blame him for that.  She was pretty damn hot before he worked her over.  Probably would have done her myself," Faye's abductor remarked.

They all laughed a bit.

"What a waste of a good piece of ass.  Too bad Vicious isn't into sharing his toys," it was Jathan again

Grunts and chuckles of agreement were exchanged by the three thugs.

Spike's stomach lurched, hot bile rising in his gorge.  _You did it to her, all of you, he silently accused them.  No one touched Faye, _his_ Faye especially, and laughed about it.  ._

Something inside him cracked, unleashing a fury, raw and red, that was impossible to contain. They didn't know it, but Vicious' three lackeys had signed their own death sentences the moment they had mentioned her.

"That's no way to treat a woman," he said flatly, cold fire flashing in his eyes as he turned to look at them over the back of his chair.

"What the fuck's your problem?" said the nameless blonde, Faye's kidnapper.

Without a word Spike stood and pulled his gun from his pocket.  He emptied the first two rounds into the man's forehead, bloody brains splattering the window behind him as the bullets exploded out the back of his blonde head.

Satisfaction flowed through Spike in a warm wave as he watched the monster who had fed Faye to Vicious meet his death.  The sound of guns being cocked sent him ducking.  
Ty and Jathan had their guns out and fired, a moment too late.  Spike dove under the table just as the back of the wooden chair he'd been standing in front of splintered. 

 Jathan leaped onto the top of the heavy oak table.  He fell flat, belly first, and hung over the side, shooting blindly underneath.  A bullet grazed Spike's arm as he rolled out of the way.  Jathan didn't pull his head up fast enough.  Spike's next two shots blew his jaw off, teeth and blood raining onto the floor. Jathan's body dangled limp over the side, dripping red.

 Ty was still standing next to the table, cranking off shots into the thick wooden top.  A skinny leg flew out from where Spike was hiding, sweeping the red head's legs out from under him.  Ty collapsed with a thud, knocking the air out of him. 

Spike slid out from under the busted table, his fist landing in Ty's face.  Blood spurted under his knuckles as the man's nose splintered.  He twisted his gunhand, breaking his wrist and elbow with a sickening crunch. Ty's gun clattered to the floor.  

Blood spotted Spike's face and suit in dark blotches.  He smelled the other man's fear, thick and acrid. Ty cowered before him, cradling his busted arm, blue eyes wide in terror.   Spike raised his Jericho and cracked off two more bullets into his leg and shoulder.  

Ty slumped at his feet, watching his leg bleed in disbelief. 

"What the hell!  You fucking shot me!"  he yelled, panicking from the sight of so much of his own blood pooling onto the dirty white floor.

Spike yanked him up by the collar of his black suit jacket and hauled him outside into the back alley.  

He threw him against the brick wall and watched him slide down to the wet cement, his blood mixing with the rain water.  

"I-I'm sorry, man!  Whatever I said, I'm real sorry!"  Ty was begging for his life, and Spike knew it.

The reek of ammonia filled his nostrils. He cast an uncaring glance at the young man who had just pissed himself from the look of the dark splotch spreading across his pants.  He didn't care.  No amount of begging was going to save him.

"Tell me what I want to know and I'll kill you quick," Spike said, leaning into the boy's frightened face.

"And," he gulped, "if I don't?"

Spike pulled a knife out of his trenchcoat and waved it under the guy's sniveling nose.

"I'll do you the way he did her," he was dead serious.

Ty nodded, unable to speak.

"Where does Vicious hang out these days when he wants to be alone?"

"I…I don't know…"

"Not good enough!" Spike hissed pushing the point of his dagger into his left nostril.

"Hell…um…oh shit, man…don't!  Let me think!"  he was crying now.

"Think fast.  Real fast." Spike drawled, pushing the blade hard enough to slice the septum.

"There's this park he goes to, mostly on days like today, when it's raining."

"And…" Spike urged.

"It's in the center of town, um, Wendfield Memorial, I think." He never took his eyes off the blade floating in front of his face.

"You've been very helpful." Spike grimaced as he slit a deep gash into the man's throat.  Blood, hot and sticky gushed over his hand with every beat of Ty's dying heart.

He wiped his blood soaked hand and blade on the dead man's jacket. Spike stood, turned on his heel, and nonchalantly walked out onto the street.  Wendfield Memorial, he thought, lighting another cigarette.  Perfect.

That's it for now!  Please let me know what you think!


	13. Drowning in Circles

Ok here's the much awaited chapter 11.  I know it took a while, but I had a sick kid all week.  Enjoy!

Disclaimer:  Cowboy Bebop is still not mine, although I have done some serious begging, so far to no avail….

Nothing Good Comes from Earth

Chapter 11: Drowning in Circles

Vicious stared impassively at his inept flunkeys. Jathan's body was still hanging over the table's edge. A pool of thick black blood was drying on the white linoleum under his shattered face.  He transferred his gaze to the blonde man crumpled under the window that was still covered with the gore that had exploded from his skull.  _No big loss, Vicious thought,_ Dom was only useful as a body shield. _ _

"Incompetent fools," he muttered.

"Sir?" a young Chinese man questioned his superior.

"Yes, Lin." His icy stare shifted up to his loyal servant.

"They just found Ty in the back alley.  His throat's been cut," Lin reported almost emotionlessly.

"Good," Vicious said, turning his back on the grisly scene before him.  

The bartender had described the man responsible for the slaughter perfectly--green hair, dark eyes, tall lanky build.  It could only be one person.  Spike.

Spike was so predictable.  Capturing his little girlfriend had been almost too easy.  And he had come running to Mars, gun happy, to avenge her. He was so weak when it came to women.  Especially beautiful ones. A small, twisted smile contorted his lips.  Soon he would have that traitor in his grasp; soon it would all be over, and Spike would be dead

***

"Faye!  Where the heck are you going this time?" Jet yelled, catching up to her in the rotating corridor.  He grabbed her leather clad arm and jerked her around to face him.

The malicious retort died on her lips when she saw a look of genuine concern, for her of all people, cross his face. Jet letting on that he cared about them was new, and would take some getting used to.

"Jet…," she sighed, looking into his worried eyes.

"You're going after Spike, aren't you?" he said, almost half-smiling.

The tenderness evaporated out of her.  Her eyes narrowed to glowing emerald slits as she yanked her arm free from his grip. _Like I'd waste my time on that jerk,_ she thought, trying to force down the hurt and feed the anger inside her.

"Hell no!  Why would I?" she berated the confused older man.

"Well, I just thought…you know, since…well, you and him…um…,"Jet trailed off, looking over her head, at his feet, anywhere but her face.

"Well, don't!" she screeched.

"Don't what!"

"Don't think!  Especially about me and him!"

"Well then where _are_ you going!" he shouted back, his temper flaring.

"To take care of some business on Mars," she replied coolly.  She spun around, black leather flowing and swishing about her legs as she continued down the corridor to the hangar.

"What kind of business would that be?" he yelled after her retreating form.

"The personal kind," she replied, not bothering to look back.

"Vicious will kill you, you know," Jet said matter-of-factly.

Faye paused, her bobbed hair swinging as she glanced over her shoulder.

"Whatever happens, happens," she stated casually, winking a smoky green eye at him.

"Not only are you sleeping with him, now you sound like him, Faye," he said, raising one black eyebrow, his arms crossing his massive chest.

She stopped cold, and for a moment she looked like she would murder him where he stood.  In an instant her homicidal glare was supplanted by a cocky little smile.

"Go fuck yourself, Jet," she retorted, ruby lips blowing him a kiss as she walked through the door.

Jet shook his head, staring at the closed door she had disappeared through.  The hangar doors groaned as they scraped open.  _I really should get around to oiling those, he thought automatically.  He focused on the present situation.  Spike was who-knows where; Faye was on her way to die.  That left him, Ed, and the dog.  _

"Ah, damn it!" he exclaimed in an exasperated sigh. He frowned.  Knowing Spike, he was most likely already on Mars to take Vicious down himself.   _Stupid young people, he thought sourly._

He turned and walked back the way he came, his boots clanging on the metal floor.  He heard her before he saw her, and sidestepped Ed in airplane mode before she could crash into him. She made a hairpin turn and scrambled up his back, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. 

"Jetty-Jet!  Why so sad?" she asked, twisting to look at his still-scowling face while perched behind his shoulders.

"I'm not sad."

"Ok!" she squealed and squeezed tighter.  "Where's Faye-Faye?"

"She left again."

Well, where is Spike-person?"

"He's gone too." Jet answered tersely, trying to shake her off.

"Everyone left and forgot Edward?" she cried in disbelief.  The girl threw herself backward, dramatically clattering to the floor with her arm over her eyes.

Jet gave her a dismissive glance and headed toward the bridge.  A few minutes later the Bebop was following in the Redtail's wake.  

"Not that they'll appreciate this at all," he grunted to Ein's curled up body in the corner.

_Old man, you care too damn much…_

 His thought trailed off as he stared out the window.  

A roiling mass of pewter clouds hung menacingly like a shroud, obscuring Mars' two moons.  Rain fell in sheets on the residents of the city, subduing the normal hustle and bustle of a Sunday night. 

Liquid needles beat relentlessly down on the trees, one leaf after another finding a watery grave on the flooded cobblestones below.  A slender white hand bent down and picked up a large maple leaf.  It was heavy with rain water and tattered on the edges.  Still green, it had died before it's time.  

_Is this what's going to happen to me,_ she thought as she traced the veins with her fingertip.  Something beautiful and young beaten down until she gave up and fell.  Her small hand crushed the flimsy piece of foliage, red fingernails ripping holes in its flesh.  _  No, that's not how she would die.  Unlike that leaf she could fight against her storm.  _

Faye dropped the crumpled mass from her green stained palm.  

She tilted her chin up, felt the cold rain kiss her face and drip inside the collar of her leather trenchcoat. She walked to a nearby stone bench and sat, heedless of the wet.  Faye didn't know why she was wasting time wandering around the deserted park instead of trying to gather information.  She hadn't really thought much beyond the go-to-Mars-and-kill-Vicious part of her plan.  She needed to find him but didn't have a clue where to look.  Vicious was one of those people that found you, not the other way around.

Her elbows rested on her knees as she hung her head in her hands. Drenched pieces of hair fell in her eyes, but she didn't bother to push them back into place.  _I wonder what Spike's doing now, he entered her thoughts unbidden.  That had been happening a lot lately.  This time she allowed him to stay instead of pushing him back into the pit of her stomach along with the dull ache that always accompanied him. Her mind wandered to the night before.  Just him and her.  Together.  So perfect._

_… lopsided smile, a genuine one that lit up his face.  Beautiful dark eyes burning into her own with a heat deeper than lust's fire.  Strong but gentle calloused hands caressing the soft flesh of her cheek as he looked at her, all his attention focused on her, not some blonde goddess…_

 Her hand unconsciously traced where his had been.  A bitter smile tugged at her crimson lips.  She had never dared hope anyone would ever look at her that way; and when it had happened, and it had been him doing it, the last of her defensive shields had melted away.  She had allowed him to see her naked, body and soul.

"Stupid girl…" she muttered, lifting her head up.  Rain slid down her cheeks like the tears she wished she had, but couldn't seem to find.  _Just another regret,_ she thought bitterly.

Faye smelled him before she saw him.  The scent of bitter smoke cut through the fresh smell of wet grass and dirt.  Her face hardened into its usual mask of cynicism, hand automatically reaching for her concealed Glock.  All her senses were on edge as she waited for her watcher to make himself known.

"I know you're out there, so you might as well show yourself," she said casually, standing up.  Seconds felt like minutes as they slowly ticked by.  The only evidence anyone other than herself was around was the odor of burning tobacco.  She wrinkled her nose, trying to discern which direction the smell was coming from.  She turned to her left.  Yes, it was definitely stronger over there.  She spied a small copse of trees fifteen feet away from the bench. She pulled her gun and pointed it at the trees, walking forward with arms extended, her finger resting on the trigger.

"Come out, come out…," she cooed.  The thrill of the hunt filled her; she had almost forgotten what that kind of rush felt like.  Predator and prey facing off, not knowing which would emerge the victor.  She was grinning now, her tongue sliding over the ridge of her teeth as she scanned the wooded area.

"You shouldn't be here."

The cold voice stopped her.  Her smile disappeared into a line of stone.  _It isn't…it can't be…_

"Spike?" she breathed.  She didn't like how her voice had wavered when she'd said his name.

A lanky shadow stepped out of the trees, the glowing ember of his cigarette hovering in front of his face.  Even in the dark she could tell he was as drenched as she was.  Spike stepped closer to her; she could see his face now, and he was anything but happy to see her.  Faye stood there, boots sinking into the spongy earth, gun still pointed at him.  His face was taught, as if he were under too much stress; his mouth was set in a straight line, jaw slightly jutting; but the worst were his eyes, bright with the red flames of hate.  That gaze-the devil's gaze-pierced her to the very core.  His expression was eerily familiar.  It hit her like a kick in the gut.  The last time she'd seen him look like that was at the cathedral with Vicious.  Only now that burning stare was directed at _her_.  He despised her.  And she hated him for it.

"Why shouldn't I be?  I didn't know you were my master!" she spat, acid dripping from her tongue.  Faye scowled at the man who had shared her bed not even 24 hours earlier.

He threw the smoldering butt into a nearby puddle and stepped towards her.  He didn't like that she was there; after all, she could get hurt.  But damn, it was good to see her.  He needed her like a drowning man needed air.  He _was_ a drowning man, only he was sinking in blood instead of water.  He had killed those men.  Granted, they deserved it, but he didn't have to enjoy it.  His thirst for the blood of his enemy was consuming him.  

He had been wandering Wendfield Memorial for hours, hoping Vicious would show his ugly face. The rain had long since washed most of the blood from him, but he could still feel it pouring over his hands.  It grew dark, the sky showing no sign of clearing.  So he kept walking aimlessly.

Then there she was, kneeling beneath a maple tree, fixated on a leaf. She had changed her clothes again.  She appeared to be in black leather head to toe.  He liked it.  His Faye looked dangerous. She hadn't heard him, whether from the pounding rain or the fact that he was in stealth mode he wasn't sure.  He had hid himself, planning on just watching her.  And then he had lit that damn cigarette.  _Maybe I wanted her to catch me, he thought wearily._

He took another step forward, quickly closing the distance between them.  He stopped when his chest was pressed against the barrel of her gun.  They just stood there, rain beating staccato on the cobbled path behind them.

"You shouldn't be here," he repeated, looking into her brilliant green eyes.  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him, the gun sandwiched between their chests.  Spike buried his hand in her wet black hair and wrenched her head back roughly to kiss her.

"No!" Faye said, breaking away from his grasp.

Spike was irritated, but mostly confused.  _Is she mad at me?_  He pulled her back into his arms. He couldn't let her go, not yet.  Not until that awful fury that rode him was extinguished. He kissed her again.

"I said no," she seethed against his lips, even as her body started to relax into his.  Suddenly a burst of pain flew up his leg.  Faye had kicked him in the shins.  

"Shit, Faye!  What the hell was that for?" 

"You're not going to use me again." Her voice was venomous.

"What?"

"Use me once, shame on you; use me twice, shame on _me!" She was almost yelling now.  "I'm not some whore you can fuck when you get bored or when you need to feel better about yourself!"_

"Wh-is that what you think last night was!  Is it!" he bellowed, shaking her. _How could she think that? Didn't she know how he felt about her?_

"Isn't that what it usually is when you leave someone in a cheap motel bed without a damn word?"

Just then he noticed the hurt.  It was tingeing the anger in her voice, hiding under the fury flashing in her eyes. Hatred that had been directed at others now turned inward. His grip on her arms unconsciously tightened until he was squeezing hard enough to leave bruises through the leather. He had never been physically rough with her before.

"Spike," her voice hitched in fear barely concealed by rage as he lifted her off the ground, "you're hurting me."

His fingers released her immediately.   

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…hurt…you."

"Which time?" she asked, stumbling backwards away from him, rubbing her sore biceps.  Faye never backed away from a fight with him.  Until now.

He turned his back on her and walked into the trees.  _Every time,_ he thought as he disappeared from view.  

Faye was yelling something at him, but he wasn't listening.  The fury blazed hotter, filling his head with a deafening roar.  _Vicious, it was hissing.  _Vicious…__

Vicious sat in his dark office overlooking the city.  His black crow perched on a chair nearby. There was a hollow rap from the other side of the oak door. 

"Enter," he commanded, spinning his brown leather chair to face his messenger.  His first rule, 'never leave your back open', applied to friend and foe alike.

"Sir, Miss Valentine's ship has been reported to have just landed in the city," said the tall, chestnut haired rooky standing at attention in front of his master.

"Where has she landed?" he demanded.

"Wendfield Memorial, Sir."

"Send a group to 'invite' her here."

"As you wish, Sir," the man bowed and left.

A thin smile played on his lips.  "How convenient for us, Miss Valentine wants to grace us with her presence once again."

 The ugly bird squawked his agreement.

Vicious sat at his desk in the dark, reliving every detail of their last meeting.  How he had broken her body and spirit, and then fucked her while she screamed. He hadn't expected it to go that far, but the mouthy bitch deserved it. No one called him a coward and lived.  She didn't realize how lucky she was that he'd needed her alive. It had been pleasurable; and it wasn't often he found something to take pleasure in.  He licked his lips in anticipation. After he disposed of Spike, perhaps he should remind her why he was called Vicious.  


	14. It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Disclaimer:  I still own no part of CB, but you all knew that already!

Sorry this took me forever to write.  Forgiveness Please!

Nothing Good Comes from Earth

Chapter 12:  It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Faye stood there, the Glock hanging limp at her side.  The sky was still crying relentless cold tears as she yelled at his retreating form.

"That's right, Spike!  Go on, get yourself killed!  See if I care!" She choked on the last part. 

She sank to the ground, knees digging in mushy earth, her gun resting on one leather clad thigh.  Wide eyed, she stared through black strands at the wall of trees, willing him to return.  _Come back; her lips formed the words, but no sound came forth.  Faye knew she was being an idiot.  She yelled for him to go, but pleaded silently for him to stay.  She didn't even know which she wanted anymore.  Neither, both, in the end it was all the same. A slight shudder shook her body.  It was a good thing she was already on the ground or she would have collapsed.  _

He had hurt her.  That was all she had been able to concentrate on.  His excuse, or whatever it was he had said, had completely gone by her.  She had been too intent on her own anger. All she remembered was the hate in his eyes, burning cold and hot at the same time as she accused him of using her; the fury in his voice as he screamed and shook her, digging his fingers into her arms.  

Unconsciously, Faye rubbed her gun arm with her free hand, unwilling to release the cold slick metal from her grasp.  She had been afraid of what'd he'd do after the incident with Ed and his ship, but not like the fear she had felt just then.  Hate mixed with the desire to kill had warped his normally carefree features into the visage of a bloodthirsty angel. The only thing that had ever scared her more than that look on his face was Vicious. 

Finally, she stood, brushing away the wet grass plastered to her knees.  She put her hands in her pockets, gun and all, and turned her back on the grove Spike had disappeared through.  She started up the cobblestone path back to her ship.  Enough time had been wasted.  If she wanted to kill Vicious, she'd have to do it before Spike found him.

Faye shivered as a gust of wind blew down her neck and sent wet threads of hair into her mouth.  Blood pounded in her ears with every step she took.  Her head was throbbing from him shaking her so badly.  She knew she'd have a sore neck by morning.  _What a liar, she thought sourly.  _

_"I would never hurt you, you know."_ He had said those words just last night.  He had sounded so sincere.  Why had she believed him?  He had hurt her before, her feelings anyway, and they both knew it.  But he had never touched her in anger like he had tonight.  _For being old enough to be his grandma, you sure are naïve sometimes, Faye Valentine,_ she scolded herself.

The need for a cigarette finally convinced her to let go of the Glock.  She left it in her pocket and pulled out a cigarette instead.  Now where was that lighter?  Faye dug into her pockets once more, the dead cigarette hanging from her lips. She pushed passed her gun and a couple grenades before she found her prize. Shielding the cigarette with her empty hand, she pressed the button and was rewarded with a small yellow flame.  

"Come on, light damn it!" she muttered as she tried to torch the drenched paper and tobacco.  

After a few more futile attempts, she angrily tossed the soggy stick to the ground and reached into her pocket for a fresh one.  Faye pulled her coat open on one side, raising her arm while still holding the edge.  She ducked under her makeshift umbrella and lit her second cigarette.  A cloud of smoke filled the small space as she exhaled through her nostrils. 

"Mmmm, much better," she sighed, bent under the shield provided by her coat.  She was intent on staying there until she was done smoking.  _Will this rain ever let up,_ she wondered moodily.  

Just then something hard poked into her back and stayed there.

"If you don't want to get hurt, then I suggest you come quietly, Miss Valentine," a deep voice commanded.

"Shit!" she swore under her breath.  She dropped her coat, and slowly turned to face her captor.  He was a tall blonde man with the features of a sewer rat: long, drawn face and a sharp nose over too-thin lips.  

"Hands up," he demanded, his machine pistol now a foot away from her head.

She complied with a sigh.  Her cigarette still hung from her lips.  Slowly she moved a hand toward her mouth.

"Hands back up where they were!"

"All right, jeez, can't I get this cigarette out of my mouth at least?" she pouted.

He took a step closer to her, the barrel coming within an inch of her nose.  She lowered her hand once again and removed the burning cigarette from her mouth, but kept it close to her face.

"So what is it you want with me," she asked, sizing up her opponents.  Besides the man in front of her, there were five more behind him.  _Only six? Vicious didn't know her, did he?  _

"Lord Vicious has 'requested' your presence," he droned.  Man, this guy was pathetic.

"Oh, is that all, why didn't you say so," she replied taking another drag.  "Let's go, then.  I don't have all night."

He coughed as she exhaled a puff of smoke into his face, all the distraction she needed.   She clutched the butt between her thumb and forefinger, dodged the gun in her face, and ground the burning ember into his eye.  

As the man screamed, clutching his injury, Faye grabbed the machine pistol from his hand and shot him in the gut and chest. Blood sprayed her front, droplets splashing onto her face like a warm rain. She pulled the body to her just as his subordinates open fired.

She could feel the impact of bullets burying themselves in the dead man as she returned fire blindly with the machine pistol. They had yet to hit her, but with the awkward weight of her body shield, she hadn't done any noticeable damage to them, either. She pulled a grenade from her pocket, yanked the pin with her teeth, and lobbed it over into the midst of her attackers.

 The nearness of the explosion set her off balance.  Her stolen gun went flying as she collapsed hard under the dead weight of her victim, slamming her head against the rocky ground. 

Her skull cracked from the impact; she could feel the warm blood pooling under her head. She inhaled sharply, then sputtered and coughed.  It was hard to breath.  _Get up! Get up!_ She screamed at herself. If anyone was left, she didn't want to be caught on her back pinned under a corpse.

Faye grunted, pushing his body off her so she could breath. She rolled onto her stomach, and immediately pulled the Glock from her pocket.  A wave of nausea passed over her as she looked around trying to focus on the flames and anguished screams in front of her. She blinked, willing her vision to cooperate.

Two of the men were writhing on the ground in agony as they tried to put out their burning suits.  Two more were very obviously dead with half their faces and various appendages blown all over the wet path.__

_But that's only four_, she thought.  Where was the other one? 

Tucking her legs under her chest, Faye pushed herself up into a crouch.  She reached inside her trenchcoat, then remembered she'd left the other holster with the Uzis in the Redtail.  

"Shit!" She hadn't thought she'd need them so soon.  Her ship wasn't that far away.  The other man hadn't shown himself yet, so maybe he'd gotten hit and just run off.  She still had one grenade and a full clip, more than enough to take out one man.  

Ignoring the pain in her head, Faye jumped up and took off running down the slick cobblestones.  She skirted the four men lying in her way, and rounded the corner.  Suddenly, a shadow jumped out of the trees and tackled her to the ground. He was sprawled on top of her, trying to get control of the gun in her right hand stretched above her head; she tried to knee him in the stomach, but was pinned too tightly beneath him.  His breath stank, eyes that of a wild animal.  He wrapped one hand around her throat and squeezed as she desperately clawed his face.  His free hand was busy trying to wrench the gun from her.  

Running out of air, and not knowing what else to do, she pulled the trigger.  He screamed, a feral sound ripped from his throat, as his fingers exploded.  The grip on her neck slackened for an instant.  Faye leaned up and crushed his larynx between her teeth, holding on like a pit bull while he thrashed his head wildly.

His uninjured hand tore at her hair, trying to rip her off of him. She brought the gun up and pressed the barrel under his jaw an instant before she released his throat, and pulled the trigger.  His exploding face showered her in gore as he fell over with a wet thud onto the ground.

Faye wiped the blood from her eyes and scrambled to her feet.  She stood over the dead body._  The animal instinct that had taken over subsided. _ That was the last one,_ she thought as relief washed over her.  She turned her face skyward, letting the cold rain wash the man's blood away.  It felt good to be alive._

Too late, she realized someone was behind her.  She spun around ready to put a bullet into whoever had snuck up on her.  She stopped short at the sight of at least 20 armed syndicate men closing around her.

_Fuck! Can my day get any worse!_  She thought reaching into her pocket.  One grenade wasn't going to get them all, but it might give her enough of an opening to escape.  

Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she pulled the explosive out of her pocket. 

"I'd love to dance boys, but this girl's all partied out," Faye laughed as she pulled the pin and threw it where they were the thickest.  

She turned tail and ran towards her ship, shooting anyone who came after her.  She rounded another corner, still being pursued, and she was almost out of bullets.  There it was, glistening in the rain under the park lights.  The Redtail.  Salvation.  Just a few more yards…

A bullet whizzed by her ear.  She turned and shot still running, but missed him.  She aimed one more time.  She had a good shot, she could get him.  She pulled the trigger and was greeted by a metallic click.  Empty.

He was almost on top of her now. With a burst of speed fueled by sheer terror, she bolted across the grass.  He dove onto her back and they skidded along the soggy ground.  She was crawling, trying desperately to get away.  He pulled her back toward him and pistol whipped her.  Faye collapsed face down in the mud only ten feet away from her ship.

Vicious stared down at the bedraggled figure laid out on the couch in his office.  She was covered in blood, most of it from his thugs.  _How could such a pathetic creature take out 18 of my best men?  He wondered, almost a bit shaken.  He hadn't expected her to be that good.  Spike wasn't known for picking strong women.  Julia had been weak; had needed protection.  Faye had proven she was the exact opposite.  _

He frowned as he thought of the blonde woman who had betrayed him.  He had loved her, more than he thought he could love anything.  She was so soft, so pure.  And she had belonged to him.  Or at least he thought she had, until the day he found her in bed with his best friend.

 It was a rainy afternoon, and he had returned early from his latest mission.  He wanted nothing more than to sink into her, to remember he was more than a syndicate assassin with a core of steel.  Only she had been able to awaken the beating heart of a man in him.  Only she could make him feel warmth.

He had climbed the stairs to her apartment and let himself in.  It was quiet.  She was probably out.  She wasn't expecting him, he knew.  He smiled, something he only did around her, and walked to the bedroom to sleep while he waited for her to return.

Then he saw them, lying asleep, entangled in her creamy sheets and each other's arms.  His blood ran cold, and a fury greater than any he had felt before or since welled up inside him.  It was all a lie.  Everything.  Just four nights ago she had whispered _'I love you' into his ear as they made love.  And he had responded in turn.  Only he had meant it._

He glared at them, wanting to kill them both right there.  He could almost see their blood mingling into a broad red stain on the pale sheets.  He raised his dagger, ready to do it.  Then decided against it.  He wouldn't let them die together.  This wasn't _Romeo and Juliet, and he sure as hell wasn't Shakespeare.  He plunged the knife into the headboard above them, and left._

Faye stirred on the leather sofa, a soft moan escaping her lips.  He couldn't blame Spike for wanting her; even in her current condition she was quite tasty.  _Funny how we always want the same woman, Spike,_ he thought.  Only this time Spike would be the one who lost, not him.  Granted, he would never love her—he could never do that after Julia—but Spike wouldn't get to have her either.  After he killed Spike he would keep her until she was no longer amusing.  And if Spike killed him instead, he would leave orders to have her executed on the spot.  Either way, he won.  

He looked over Faye, his eyes lingering on her luscious curves under her soaked red tank top.  He licked his lips, his groin tingling. It was a pity to have to wait, but his victory would be all that much sweeter for it. Right now he had to send Spike a message.

That's it for now.  Please remember to R&R!  Thanks!


	15. Stray Dog Woman

Disclaimer:  same as the previous 12 chapters.  Blah blah, you get the point by now.  Not mine!

I wish this chapter was longer, but it just didn't want to be.  I'm sorry it's been taking me so long to update lately.  Too much going on to write.  But here it is, a slightly humorous interlude in the darkness that is my story.

Chapter 13: Stray Dog Woman

Jet leaned over the deck rail, staring gloomily into the green water sloshing against the hull. The storm had finally rained itself out; only a few vestiges of gray clouds tarnishing the pale blue morning sky.  It was a good thing Tharsis had a decent drainage system or the city would have been flooded.  

Jet pulled slowly on his cigarette, savoring the calming effect it supplied his frazzled nerves.  He had spent the better part of the previous evening trying to get a hold of Spike, but the idiot had shut off his phone.  He hadn't responded to the direct calls to the Swordfish, either.  Faye had simply ignored him after she left the Bebop.  

"Stupid, good for nothing young people," he muttered, smoke filtering through his teeth.

He took one last drag down to the filter and flicked the spent butt into the water with a shallow plop.  He watched the ensuing ripples dance across the glassy surface.  Jet was a little surprised Ed hadn't yet come out to bother him, something she'd been enjoying overly much lately.  Maybe she was still tied to that computer of hers, looking for any signs of their missing crewmates.  The familiar roar of an engine broke his reverie.

Quickly descending was a red monoracer.  It glided gracefully across the water toward the Bebop, slowing to a stop by the rail Jet was squeezing.  The hatch popped and a familiar lanky man jumped out.  

"Where is she?" Spike demanded as he hopped over the railing, landing lightly next to Jet.  He didn't look very happy.

"Well, if you mean Ed—she's inside," Jet frowned at his partner knowing full well which 'she' he meant.

"Thanks, Jet.  You're a lot of help," Spike said rolling his eyes at the older man.

He sauntered across the deck and went inside.  Jet stared at his swaggering form, shaking his head.  He was no expert on women, that was for certain; but Spike was a complete idiot when it came to the fairer sex.  Even though Faye had told him next to nothing about her situation with Spike, he guessed plenty.  She had been angry whenever he brought him up.  More than likely Spike had left her alone sleeping in some hotel room, thinking he had to go face Vicious before she did.  She most likely thought he had used her.  

"What a couple of idiots," he muttered as he followed Spike inside.

He found Spike rummaging in the refrigerator for a beer.  With a frustrated growl, he emerged empty handed.  There was nothing in there, not even a bell pepper.  

"Why is there never any food on this damn ship!" he yelled as the door slammed shut. 

"Because two of the bounty hunters on this ship are too busy sleeping and fighting with each other to make any money," Jet's deep voice retorted.

Spike stiffened at the comment and slowly turned to face Jet.  His expression was murderous.  _How does he…who told him…_

"That's none of your business," he warned, his fists clenching at his sides.

Jet ignored him and continued "Keeping this ship in working order, not to mention your ships, is my business.  And when two of my crew aren't pulling their weight, that's my business too."

"Jet, we're not discussing this—"

"Oh yes we are."

"Damn it, Jet! Just—"

"Just what, Spike?  Ignore the fact that you're being an idiot?" Jet asked, raising black eyebrows at the flustered man in front of him.

"I'm not being an idiot.  You obviously don't understand anything," Spike sulked.

"Let me tell you something about women, Spike—"

"Oh, no!  I don't think so.  I hate to be the one to break it to you, Jet, but you are the _last_ person I would _ever_ ask for advice on that subject!" Spike said with a grimace, knowing his protests were falling on deaf ears.  Once Jet decided he needed to give a speech, very little could dissuade him.

"C'mon, Spike, listen to me for a half a second for once."

"Fine, fine," Spike grumbled as he leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette.

"Ok, women are like pets.  They're dependent on someone else all the time."

"Ooookaaay…" Spike mumbled unconvinced.

"They need someone to make the rules and take care of them.  Ya know?" he asked hopefully.

"No, not really."

Jet groaned and rubbed his forehead.  This wasn't coming out like he had planned.  He crossed his arms once again and tried to explain.

"Ok, let's say you got a stray dog—"

"Like Ein?"

"No not li—well maybe a little like Ein—but that's not the point!"

"Well what _is_ the point?"

"I'm getting to it!  Stop interrupting!"

Spike groaned and gestured for him to continue.

"All right, you have this stray dog that just shows up one day.  Now this dog isn't going to trust you, but it will take a handout if you offer it.  So you feed the damn thing 'cause you feel sorry for it.  Next thing you know you're buying dog food and a collar, but the animal still doesn't really trust you.  You have to keep giving it everything it needs, like food and a bed, a pat on the head now and then.  Eventually, after a lot of time and money, you might end up with a good pet that will love you.  But if you give it one reason to distrust you, like abandoning it or abusing it, then you've lost any chance of making a good pet out of it," Jet finished his analogy, hoping some of what he had said leaked into Spike's thick skull. 

Spike just looked at him, puzzled.  His cigarette dangled limp for his lower lip as he mulled over what Jet was trying say to him. He scratched his head, then threw his hands in the air.

"I still don't get it, Jet," he admitted finally.

"Faye's right.  You really are a lunkhead." 

"Lunkhead, lunkhead.  Spike is a lunkhead," Ed sang as she skipped into the room.

"Like you would understand it either, Ed," Spike mumbled crossly.

"Aahhh!  Edward understands much, lunkhead-person," she replied with a mysterious grin.

"You don't even know what we're talking about," he accused, getting a little annoyed with her.

"Yes Ed does.  Ed was lissstennning."

Jet's eyes narrowed at the girl. "Ed, that was a _private conversation.  You can't—"_

"All right, genius, you explain it if you so 'all-knowing'!" Spike interrupted, kneeling in front of her, smoke curling around them.

Ed just glared at him with one of those "you are such an idiot" looks that he thought only Faye was capable of.  He backed off a little.  It was kind of creepy.

"Jet-person is simply saying that if you want to get Faye-Faye back, you're going to have to give a little; maybe think about someone besides yourself for once.  Show Faye-Faye she is more important to you than the nasty nasty Vicious-person," Ed said smugly.  She stuck out her tongue then looked up at Jet.  "Did Edward get it right?"

Jet passed his hand over his balding head, then shrugged.

"Yup, that pretty much covers it, Ed," he replied.  He turned to Spike and frowned.  "The kid gets it; why don't you?"

"Well, if you said it like she did, I would _have!" Spike glowered. _

Jet just shrugged and lit a smoke of his own.  Ed scampered off to another part of the ship, wearing Ein as a hat.  Spike and Jet stood in silence, surrounded by a haze of smoke.  When he finished his third cigarette, Jet spoke.

"So, have you thought about what I said?" he asked the younger man.  He looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since he'd come back to the ship. Rusty stains covered his clothes; his dark eyes were sunken and his skin was ash.  He looked like he'd vacationed in Hell.  Even his shoulders were slumped more than usual.

"Yeah," Spike replied, still focused on his shoes.

"And?" Jet urged.

Spike lifted his head, dark strands of hair falling across his forehead.  A mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes' brown depths.  His thin lips curled into a wry grin.

"I don't think Faye would appreciate being compared to Ein," he said dryly.

"No, I don't suppose she would," Jet chuckled. 

"Faye didn't come back here last night, did she."  It was more of a statement than a question.

"You already know the answer to that.  Why did you think she was here, anyway?"  Jet asked.  

"Wishful thinking."

Hope to post next chapter very soon.  Please R&R!


	16. Long Swords and Sea Rats

Disclaimer: (see chapter 1, 2, 3…….13)  yada yada

First of all I would just like to say I am sooooo sorry this took 12 days to get done.  Even I suffer from writers block and stupid ideas not worthy of being put to paper.  But at last, we finally have a winner (or so I hope).  Anyway, enough groveling on my end.  Here you go, the long awaited chapter 14.  As always, thank you all for the divine reviews.  And special thanks to Ckrisz for being my wonderful editor.  I truly could not have done this without you!  

Chapter 14:

Long Swords and Sea Rats

Spike stretched his long legs over the yellow couch.  He watched the wisps of smoke from his cigarette curl up slowly to the ceiling, only to be sliced away by the metal fan blades whooshing overhead.  His brow furrowed with a scowl as his thoughts wandered to the previous night.

He had left Faye in the park, drowning in the torrential rain.  Too consumed by his own anger, he had run off, not bothering to spare her a second glance.  His blood had been boiling and all he could think of was releasing the animalistic fury inside him before it ripped him apart.  So he had ran to the nearest bar looking for a fight.  Luckily, he had no trouble finding one.  

There had been three of them.  All young.  All drunk.  All needing to prove they had the biggest dick in the place.  He couldn't even remember how the fight had started, but by the time it ended, he had been the only one left conscious.  He had spent much of the night jumping from one sleazy bar to the next looking for someone to pound since he couldn't have Vicious.  By the time the sun came up he was exhausted.  But at least his blood had cooled enough for him to think straight.

Faye hovered just above his vision like a ghost.  She was always there—when he slept, when he woke, when he ate. Always just beyond him.  Always a distraction, albeit a welcome one.  Where was she now?  Did she miss him like he missed her?  

_I must be crazy.  I haven't seen her since last night and I'm acting like she's been gone for days,_ Spike thought with a slight grin.

He rolled over and snubbed the butt in the ashtray on the metal table next to him.  He had returned to the Swordfish to find about a thousand messages from Jet, telling Spike where to find the Bebop.  The only reason he'd returned was in hope that Faye had done the same.  The disappointment was bitter in his throat.  She was supposed to be waiting for him to come back, not the other way around.

"Where the hell are you, woman?" he muttered.

A sharp pain emanated from the back of her skull, shooting throbbing darts through her head and down her spine. A hoarse groan escaped her lips as she opened her eyes.  She was sprawled out on a brown leather couch that felt like warm butter against her cheek.  Gooseflesh prickled her naked arms, and cold steel encircled her wrists.  Reflexively, she freed herself from the handcuffs with a hairpin she always had stuck above her ear for such emergencies.  Slowly she pushed herself up into a sitting position, trying to ignore the spinning room that was making her stomach lurch.  

Faye rested her elbows on her thighs and buried her face in her hands.  She squeezed her eyes shut and took slow deep breaths to keep her stomach from purging itself all over the white plush carpet.  She reached around and gingerly touched her wounded head. Blood matted her hair around a crusted bandage.  She winced as her fingers hit a particularly tender spot; new moisture seeped through the dressing and onto her fingertips.  She wiped her bloody hand on the couch, not caring whether or not anyone saw her do it.  

_I need a cigarette._

It was her first coherent thought since regaining consciousness. Her second was Spike.  Where was he right now?  Was he thinking about her?  _Not that I care,_ she lied to herself with a scowl.  Her body was screaming for a nicotine fix.  She patted the pockets of her leather pants.  Empty.  

"Damn it!" she cursed.  They were in her trenchcoat, wherever that was.  

She grumbled as she pushed herself off the couch, wobbling a little in her boots. She reached for the nearest piece of furniture, a leather hobnailed chair that matched the sofa, and steadied herself on it.  

_How the hell are you going to kill him if you can't even stand properly?  _Faye scolded herself, disgusted with her own weakness.  

She scanned the room for her missing coat.  She was obviously in some sort of office.  In front of her was a large oak desk with a computer and various other office supplies on it.  Not a stray paper could be seen.  A small filing cabinet, a phone, and a large window covered with heavily tinted glass were all that filled that side of the room.  To her left was a door.  Behind her, other than the couch, was a floor lamp, bar, and coffee table.  A small tree leaning against the oak paneled walls added a touch of life to the otherwise Spartan office.  It wasn't exactly the type of place she had expected to be held prisoner.  Vicious usually had a penchant for the gothic darkness of dungeons and cathedrals. 

"Who decorated this place, his mother?" she mused as she spotted her coat peeking around the other end of the couch on the floor.  It was hard to imagine someone as heartless and cruel as Vicious having a mother.

The dizziness had subsided enough for her to walk straight.  She padded softly to the couch and snatched up her coat eagerly.  She rifled through her pockets quickly.  Everything but her smokes, lighter, and wallet was gone, but at that moment she didn't care.  Life was suddenly better as the sweet smoke filled her lungs.  She threw the coat on quickly and ran to the door.  She turned the handle.  Locked.

"Damn computerized locks!" she grumbled, kicking the door with her heavy boot.   

Faye walked over to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass.  Tharsis sprawled in front of her, a giant metropolis.  She looked down to the bustling street below in the dying evening sun.  _I must have been out for a while,_ she thought.  It had been night when she had been captured, and here it was sunset again.  At least 14 hours had passed, probably more. The vendors and businessmen scurried along the sidewalks passing toy vehicles like ants. She had to be at least 20 stories up.

Her reflection in the glass caught her attention.  She had a black eye, a couple scrapes, but she didn't really feel them.  The only pain that had her interest at the moment was her throbbing headache.  

_And I just got rid of the last bruises,_ she fumed as she prodded her ugly swollen face.  Why did men always go for a woman's face when they hit her?  _Probably because a gut punch wouldn't leave so many visible marks, she answered her own question._

Faye swung around at the click of the door lock.  It glided open smoothly, without even the hint of a creak.  Fear surged through her like fire in dry leaves.  _Stop it, Faye!  She coached herself, trying to quell the terror threatening to take over.  She wasn't helpless this time.  She could fight back.  That knowledge alone kept her outwardly composed while she struggled with her emotions.  _

"Well, well, well, here we are again," she said indifferently as she dragged on her cigarette.  "Miss me?"

"Hardly, Miss Valentine," Vicious said, walking around the desk toward her. He stopped, his nose mere inches away from hers.  "I see you got rid of your restraints."

Hot green eyes stared defiantly into silver ones that were colder than Callisto in the middle of winter.  A cloud of smoke escaped Faye's lips and hovered between them for the space of a heartbeat.

"Even bigger cowards than you know handcuffs aren't enough to hold me," she sneered, watching anger flicker across his face so quickly that if she'd blinked she would have missed it entirely.  

Faded ruby lips curved into a smile that was more a baring of teeth than anything else.  Vicious' fist crashed into her face with a resounding smack, knocking her against the window with a dull thud.  The pink tip of her tongue darted to the bloody corner of her mouth.  He stood over her, his hand raised threateningly, daring her to smirk at him again. 

"I should have let my men beat you to death after you slaughtered so many of their brothers.  You're lucky you're more useful to me alive than dead at the moment," he said casually, running a white finger over her jaw. 

His fingers on her skin made it crawl like a thousand writhing insects.  She tried to suppress a shudder, but failed.

"Don't do me any more favors," she replied in a voice much braver than she felt.  She sidestepped under his arm, unwilling to endure one more second of his cold flesh poisoning hers with its touch.

"Next time you won't be so lucky," he promised as he roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.

"If death means I won't ever have to look at your pompous ass again, it will be well worth it," she spat, green eyes flaring under black lashes.  "No wonder Julia left you; I can't imagine listening to your whining every single day."

His fingers dug into her arm while his other hand wrapped around her slender throat.

_How does she know about that?_ He wondered even though he knew the only answer.  Spike.

"Don't ever talk about Julia to me, unless you actually want to die," he hissed, raising her off the floor.

"I thought we had already established that I would rather be dead than look at you!" she retorted in a choked whisper, all that she could manage with his fingers constricting her throat like a python.

He dropped her to the floor, but blocked her body and any chance of escape with his own.

"You will get your wish soon enough," he stated callously.

"Well, since I'm going to die anyway, at least explain to me why you and Spike hate each other so damn much," she requested dryly.

"That is none of your concern," he warned.

"Ah, I see.  It wasn't just your rotten attitude.  Spike has bigger and better equipment, that's why she left you.  Not that I can blame her," Faye pushed him, knowing she was treading very dangerous ground.

He growled and slammed her against the window, reopening her head wound.

"Small penis, bad temper—not much to offer a girl…" she taunted, sucking the last bit of her cigarette.

"I told you…never…talk…about…her!" he roared.

His hand squeezed her chin and wrenched it upwards, forcing her closer to him.  Vicious' mouth hovered just above hers, cruel lips slightly parted.  Faye realized she was holding her breath and exhaled raggedly.  He sucked the smoke out of her mouth, not quite touching her lips, and blew it into her face.  She whimpered in pain as his fingernails drew blood, the sticky liquid dripping slightly.

His eyes narrowed as he swooped down, forcing her lips open with his own.  He raped her tongue with his, sliding it around hers like snake in her mouth, vile and evil.  His body crushed hers against the glass as his fingers dug into her shoulders like talons. Faye struggled against him as he tried to force her into submission.  Screams were choked off as he defiled her lips with his.

_This is not happening!  Not again!_  She was on the verge of panic.  His tongue was gagging her, slithering further down her throat.  This had to stop. Now!  Blood spurted down her gullet as her jaws clamped down hard, teeth gouging holes into his squirming flesh.  A surprised cry of pain escaped him as he tried to drag his tongue out from between her teeth. 

Faye pushed him backwards, his body slamming into the desk chair. His katana sang out of the sheath, but she kicked him in the gut before he had a chance to stand up completely and knocked him to the floor.  It was a lucky hit, nothing more. Had he not been off balance and short of breath, she would already be sliced wide open.

The door burst open and several armed men ran in, guns drawn.  Cold metal brushed her neck.  Vicious stared at her, his eyes burning with contempt.  Blood dribbled down his chin in rivulets, staining his white shirt. 

"Did you really think I'd let you fuck me again?" she asked, spitting his blood onto the white carpet at his feet. "Especially with that dick you stole from a dead sea rat?"

Vicious stiffened, his fingers curling into a tight fist.  _If I didn't need her alive…_

He settled for backhanding her, leaving the red blush of a future bruise on her cheek.

"That mouth of yours is going to get you killed," he promised

He scowled and dragged her to the door, katana still drawn.  She knew he would probably kill her, but at the moment she just didn't care.  She raised her head, cocking her eyebrows at his thugs, a slow grin twitching on her lips.

"Didn't you guys ever wonder why your boss carries such a long sword?" she leered, casting a meaningful glance at Vicious' crotch. 

_Oh, I'm gonna pay for that remark,_ she thought, bracing herself for his next blow.  She opened her eyes, surprised when it didn't come.  Her eyes widened at the look on his face; her death was written in the depths of his eyes, while the rest of him remained smooth and emotionless. 

"Take her to a holding cell.  It seems Miss Valentine doesn't want to partake of my generous hospitality after all," he said in his usual icy flat voice.

He had regained some semblance of composure.  She had called him a coward twice, had embarrassed him in front of his men. For that she would die.  Soon.  

"JET-JET!  SPIKE-PERSON!"  Ed screamed at the top of her lungs. 

"What is it, Ed?  You all right?"  Jet asked as he rushed around the corner in response to her fearful cry.

"Ed is fine, but Faye-Faye is not!"  She moaned sadly as she pointed at the Tomato's screen.  

Jet crouched down to read the message.  It was addressed to Spike.

"What's going on?" Spike asked, leaning over Jet's shoulder to look at whatever it was that had everyone so upset.  He paled visibly as he read the message under a still-frame of a battered Faye.

            _Spike.  Come alone to the specified coordinates _10:00___ tonight.  If you don't come, she dies.  If you bring friends, she dies.  It's time for us to end this… _

That's it for now. I really really really want to know what you all think!  Thanks!


	17. Revelations

Disclaimer:  CB is still not mine, probably never will be.

Once again this took over a week, but not much over.  I know it's not my best work, but I've been incredibly busy lately.  Please review, even though I may revise this chapter later.  It definitely needs it.  

Chapter 15:

Revelations

_Myfaultmyfaultmyfault…_

The phrase played through his head like a scratched disk, over and over until he thought he'd go mad.  Images of Faye flashed like an old fashioned camera, punctuating every word in gruesome detail.  She had been hanging by her wrists, scraped raw by chains, knees dangling just above the floor.  Bruises obscuring one side of her face; blue finger marks contrasting darkly on pale white arms. One eye swollen shut, the other open and burning with hatred.  Even from a picture he could feel the liquid heat of her fierce stare, directed at him, blaming him. 

_Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault…_

His inner voice wouldn't let him be.  It poured guilt like battery acid into his stomach.  He doubled over in physical pain; whether it was real or imagined he wasn't sure, but it sure felt real enough.  He ran to the toilet just in time to retch bile—the only thing available in his empty stomach—before dry heaving. Everything was his fault.  She had been tortured and raped because of him; had lost her dignity because of him; had run into the dragon's mouth because of him.  She wasn't going to die because of him.  Not now…not ever.

"I love her," he whispered.  It was a strange place for an epiphany, head hanging over an old toilet bowl, acid dripping from his lips into cloudy water.  But it was no less profound a revelation than if he'd been lying in bed with her.  He loved her.  He couldn't ignore it.  Couldn't deny it.  Even if he'd wanted to.

He spat into the bowl and wiped his mouth on the white hand towel hanging off the sink.  The toilet auto-flushed as he stood on his still-weak legs to stare at the man in the mirror.  Dark hair fell just over his brows, framing irregular russet eyes.  Same crooked mouth and long nose.  Same old Spike on the outside.  Somehow he had expected to look as different as he felt.  

The new emotion filled him, tingling from the tips of his hair to the ends of his toenails.  It was frighteningly pleasant, and so different from his experience with Julia.  With her it had been a bearable ache, bitter joy wrapped in the sadness of a dream.  Faye evoked pure electricity, made him alive.  Made him want to stay that way.  He needed her to be with him as surely as he needed air.  He would save her, die for her if need be. 

Vicious would be waiting at the cathedral, as he always was when he wanted to kill his former friend. Spike had died their twice before, most recently in a very similar situation to the one he was faced with now. It was a game they played over and over; roulette wheel spinning as they toyed with one another, willing to prolong the game.  But Vicious had upped the stakes this round with Faye as the prize.  It was a risky gamble he didn't dare lose.       

He splashed cold water onto his face and rinsed his mouth.  He frowned at the sound of heavy footfalls out in the hallway.  They stopped at the bathroom door.  He waited for the light knock that came a few seconds later.

"Hey, Spike?  You all right?" Jet asked hesitantly, his voice muffled by the metal between them.

Spike answered him with silence. He rested his hands on the sink and leaned his forehead against the cold mirror. What was he supposed to say? The truth?  _No, I'm not all right.  Far from it, in fact.  I just realized I love someone I have no business loving, who by the way is about to die because of it._

"Spike?" Jet asked again, his voice low and gruff.  "We'll get her back.  All of us."

Spike opened the bathroom door; wet strands of hair dripped into his eyes.  His face was stone, cold and nearly emotionless.  He stood in front of Jet for a second, wanting to say something to his partner, but found he had no words in him at the moment.  He pushed past the older man and sauntered to his room.

He flopped onto the bed, and moodily gazed at the ceiling.  The waiting was killing him.  He glanced at the clock glowing next to his bed.   It was already 6:00.  He had four hours to prepare.  Jet would have to sit this one out whether he wanted to or not.  He knew Vicious, knew his network of spies would be watching for him to break the rules laid by their master.  He wasn't about to give him any more reasons to kill her.  

Faye awakened in the dark.  The air was cold and dank, her skin clammy.  The joints in her shoulders ached from hanging for so long. If only she could get her knees on the floor the pain would be more bearable, maybe even subside some.  Those bastards had strung her up just high enough to where her shins grazed the floor of her cramped cell, and then had shackled her ankles to the wall in such a way that she couldn't possibly stand.  She had tried pulling her hands out of their bindings, but had only accomplished rubbing her wrists bloody against the metal bands. 

For all the moisture in the air, her mouth was dry and sticky.  She sucked her swollen tongue trying to provoke saliva from it to ease her thirst.  Her hollow stomach grumbled.  How long had it been since she'd eaten or drank anything?  

She willed her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but there wasn't a shred of light to break the monotonous black around her.  She closed her eyes and was greeted by more shadows.  Slowly they wavered on her eyelids, swirling into vaguely familiar images, finally dissolving into a figure she knew all to well.  She had tried not to think of him much since he had left her in the park (where had that bastard been when she needed him, anyway?); he hadn't said much too her, just stared at her with those strange eyes that were burning like molten garnets.  He had all but admitted to using her for his own devices.  One look from him told her as much. 

_           "You're wasting your time.  Spike doesn't give a shit about me."_

Her own voice echoed in her mind. That's what she had told Vicious the first time he had abducted her.  She let a bitter sigh escape.  She hated being right.  He didn't care, not really.  Sure he had acted like he did, especially the past month.  But it had all been done either out of pity or guilt.  She was a walking, talking reminder that his past was out to get him.  In some ways he and Vicious were very much alike; both had used her—continued to use her—for opposite ends to the same purpose.  Spike needed a good reason to go after Vicious guns blazing, and Vicious needed bait to make him do it.  She provided them both with the perfect excuse to kill each other.  It would be an old fashioned cowboy/outlaw showdown, complete with damsel-in-distress.   Of course neither of them would ever see it that way.

A painful ache welled up inside her, one that she tried repeatedly to squash.  He would never love her.  She realized that now.  A small tear slid down her cheek from her undamaged eye. _Damn it!  I am not crying over him again! _Her body ignored the demands of her mind as a slow torrent of hot salty tears flowed unchecked to the cement floor.  

For all that he had done to her, she still couldn't let him go.  Faye couldn't stop caring, stop hoping, stop dreaming that he would love her back.  She had lived in denial for quite some time.  Even before all this had happened, when everything had been normal, she had been nursing certain undesirable feelings for Spike.  She hadn't wanted them then, but they had stuck to her like dried rice at the bottom of a pan.  No amount of mental scrubbing could make them go away.

Her head flung up at the clanging scrape of her door being pulled open.  Dim light flooded into the room, but to her eyes it seemed like the sun at midday.  She winced and turned her head away, trying to hide behind her black curtain of hair.  Three large men entered and wordlessly cut her down.  Her shoulders creaked in relief as they were released from the burden of holding the dead weight of her body up.  Her legs tingled with tiny pinpricks as the blood recirculated through them. 

"Bring her."

She raised her head at the familiar voice.  

"Oh, but I was sooo comfy.  Where are we going this time?" she asked in a cracked whisper as a young man yanked the chain still binding her wrists, forcing her to stand or be dragged along behind him.  She chose to walk.

"To a reunion," he replied, turning his back to her.

_This oughta be real fun,_ she mused as she tripped into the waiting elevator.  


	18. He Walks in Shadows

Ok, before you all gang up on me and beat me for not updating in over a month, please let me explain!  Between breaking computers, family problems, and a SEVERE case of writer's block (which is still hanging on) this is all I have.  I had every intention of finishing this off in one long chapter, but it seems to take me forever to write anything, so I'm going to do it in shorter chapters, unless my brain magically starts functioning properly again and I write a wonderful long ending.  So here is part one to the grand finale.  Thanks to all who have stuck with me.  Any suggestions any of you have for the ending will be greatly appreciated since I have no ideas in my empty head at the moment.

Disclaimer:  Cowboy Bebop is some other lucky person's property, darn!

Chapter 16:

He Walks in Shadows

Two oblong moons hung in the black sky like white glowing potatoes.  Phobos, the nearer and larger of the two, was making its second orbital pass of the day, with Diemos lagging behind.  Even though it was a relatively small satellite, the rock was only few thousand miles away from the planet surface, making it seem astronomically huge compared to its slower, smaller counterpart.  The cathedral's dark spire pierced the heavenly body, moonlight leaking onto the tiled roof and casting eerie shadows on the cement below.

Spike stared at the ominous building looming before him, knowing it held his fate.  Nothing would be the same once he walked through those huge wooden doors.  He would slay Vicious and live, or die at his enemy's hand.  Every day since he had awakened in bed with Julia to find his friend's dagger plunged into the headboard between them, he had known it would lead to this fight.  The one that would end everything.  He had accepted that.  Having Faye thrown in as the bargaining chip was the uncertain variable that had his nerves on edge.  Vicious could kill her right in front of him the moment he went inside.  For all he knew, he was on his way to save her corpse. 

Spike shook his head, trying to dispel the image of her dead body lying at Vicious' feet, and lit a cigarette with shaky hands. Vicious was a murdering rapist bastard, but even he had to have some speck of honor left. If not, then at least he would want to kill her in front of him, make him watch the blood flow from her body.  He smirked a little at the grotesque thought.  He knew his rival as well as he knew himself.  Vicious would want to watch the effects of that blow personally.  If he was going to kill her, he would have done it and shipped her body parts in nicely wrapped boxes to the Bebop with a card like it was Christmas. 

The old clock tower announced the hour with ten low bongs from the giant bells.  Spike dropped the remains of his half-smoked cigarette and crushed it with his boot heel as he walked, hands in the pockets of his grey trenchcoat, towards the double doors.  The click of his feet against the pavement echoed menacingly against the stone walls in the church courtyard.

He laid a hand on the weathered oak and pushed.  The old door creaked open on iron hinges red with rust.  It was completely dark inside except for where the moonlight shined through the stained glass windows, bathing the floor with waves of pale color.  He grinned a little at the largest window up on the dais.  It was still broken from his last encounter with Vicious.  Tiny shards of glass glittered on the floor like confetti at a New Year's Eve party.  

The hair rose on the back of his neck like a cat's.  Someone was watching him.  He could feel it.

"Are you going to lurk in the shadows like the bogeyman all night, Vicious?" he taunted from the center aisle, turning in a circle.

"Is that what I have become to you, Spike?  A monster that haunts the dark corners of your dream world?"  Vicious replied stepping into the dim light twenty feet down the walkway.

 "I'm all done dreaming."

"So you have awakened to reality at last.  Perhaps you haven't completely lost your taste for blood after all."

"Only if the blood is yours," Spike remarked.

"Such lies, Spike.  I saw what you did to my men.  You didn't just kill them, you slaughtered them like animals.  And you liked it," Vicious sneered, his pale lips pulling into a tight smile.  

"True, but they all died because of your orders.  You never did like having anyone around that didn't follow you like you were the Messiah," Spike retorted acidly as he looked over his old friend.  _Was I ever really a heartless butcher like him, he asked himself, hoping the answer was no._

"Isn't that the duty of a Red Dragon?  To carry out the orders of his superiors?  To be loyal to the brotherhood unto death?  Or did you forget all that when you started fucking Julia?" Vicious asked, each phrase spelling out every act of Spike's betrayal, not only to him but to the entire syndicate. 

"What burns you more, Vicious?  The fact that the syndicate or your girlfriend preferred me over you?  Are you afraid you'll always be second best as long as I'm alive?"    

"I fear nothing," he snarled, his gloved hand twitching on the hilt of his katana.  The blade hissed out of its sheath, but he made no move toward the dark haired man before him.  

 He motioned with his hand and two men half-dragged Faye out of a nearby pew. Vicious jerked her arm, and she tripped and fell up against him.  She flinched as if his touch burned her and tried to put as much space as possible between their skins.  He slid the blade under her jaw, caressing the flesh with cold metal.  She grimaced and turned her head away.

"How does it feel, Spike, to know that I've had your woman the way you had mine?"  he drawled slowly, pushing each word in like a dagger as he fondled Faye's breast with his free hand.

Spike pulled his gun and aimed it at Vicious' head.  His jaw was shaking with barely contained fury.  He knew he was being goaded.  He took a deep breath.

"No, Vicious, not like yours.  I didn't have to rape Julia.  She came to me out of love.  Julia's heart belonged to me.  Faye will never belong to you that way.  Never," Spike countered, his voice dripping with hate.

"I'm not interested in her heart, just your pain," Vicious replied, his façade of indifference hiding the wicked smile glinting in his pale eyes The katana blade bit into her neck, drawing a thin line of blood.  Faye hissed her breath in sharply as her delicate skin parted against metal.

"Only a coward resorts to torturing women to get under a man's skin," growled Spike as he cocked his gun. 

 He was sweating now, hot and cold at the same time.  His fingers itched to pull the trigger and slowly destroy the white demon before him piece by piece starting with his toes. He could feel the raw fury that had plagued him for weeks growing, threatening to descend on him like a rabid wolf.  He wanted Vicious blood, wanted to feel it against his skin, taste it in his mouth, know that he and all the evil he promoted was dead.   

He looked at Faye stained with dirt and her own blood, saw the new wound oozing bright down her neck.  She was trying to be brave, scowl plastered on her face, but her good eye was wide and fearful.  

 "You and your little whore here seem to like that word too much, Spike.  Not the wisest thing to call the man holding a blade to her throat."

Vicious frowned and pulled the blade across her neck slowly before letting it fall to his side.  He pushed Faye from him into the custody of his henchmen.  Footsteps rang hollow on the stone floor as he approached Spike.   

Spike stood his ground instead of rushing forward to meet him.  

"I should just blow your ugly head off right now."

"Go ahead, but if I die then so does she," he smirked as he nodded toward the captive woman. The barrel of a gun was pressed to her temple by a man who clearly had no compunctions over shooting an unarmed woman.

Spike glared at Vicious, every muscle tensed like a hunting cat's.  Never moving his gaze from Vicious, he shifted his aim and pulled the trigger.  A bullet ripped into the goon's forehead, fresh blood spattering Faye as he slumped to the floor.  He pointed his weapon back at Vicious.

"No more games," he said as he fired another shot….

*****************

All right, here is where you get to help me get some ideas for this sad excuse of a chapter.  If I get inspired by some of your suggestions, I promise to give you credit.   THANKS!


	19. He walks in Shadows part 2

.

Hello, your friendly writer Moonwhisper here.  I know I owe everyone out there an apology for making you wait so very very very very long for this.  I'm a bad girl.  I hope this will appease all.  Just one chapter left after this, I think.  I really had a hard time ending this fight scene.  You have no idea how many times I rewrote this and trashed it in the last year.  But I'm finally pleased with it.  Thanks to all and remember to review!

He Walks in Shadows—part 2

The second bullet found its mark in Vicious' gut.  Disbelief flickered across his sharp features as he doubled over and fell, arm clutching his midsection, blood welling through his fingers.  

Spike watched Vicious fall, white hair fluttering around him.  It couldn't be over that quickly.  It just couldn't.  Spike waited for the feeling of satisfaction that he had been so sure would come with Vicious' demise. He didn't have time to ponder long, though, as the men surrounding the church open fired.  It wasn't fair!  After all he had been through, after all Faye had been through, they should have been able to leave as soon as he took Vicious down! 

He fired at the nearest black coat shooting at him, the bullet dropping him mid stride as it ripped through his skull. More men, more gunshots, he would kill them all if he had to.  

Faye stood dumbly on the edge of reality, a paltry witness to the slaughter in front of her.  Her pain numbed senses barely registered the superficial wound oozing warm down her neck.  Déjà vu.  The word floated to the front of her mind, repeating as she watched the macabre ballet lit in pastel moonlight.  Faceless black suits drifted to the harmony of gunfire and death cries; some falling gracefully like leaves, others soaring with the impact of bullets, blood spurting from their bodies in triumphant bursts.  And Spike danced untouched among them.      

 _Spike was right, this is all a dream, nothing more, she thought as she witnessed her history repeat itself.    Faye looked down, almost expecting to find herself clothed in a black satin dress and opera gloves.  Her feet shuffled slightly, enough for her toes to nudge the head of her dead guard.  She stared unaffected by the corpse at her feet. His blonde hair turned dark as black blood seeped through the strands, pooling around his head in a halo of gore.  Broken moonlight glinted on metal; his gun was still clenched tightly between his stiff fingers._

"Just a dream…" she whispered as she knelt down to pry the weapon from the dead man's hand.  _Can you die if you're dreaming, she wondered, cradling the gun in her lap.  _

_"Faye!"_

Someone was yelling her name.

_"FAYE!"_

She looked up.

"Faye!  Behind you!"  It was Spike screaming.  

Spike.  He was there.  To save her.  Of course he was there, it was her nightmare.  Pain ripped through her shoulder, hot and searing as the bullet tore muscle and bone alike, cruelly jolting back to reality.  The impact threw her face first to the floor, her lips splitting as they crashed into the frozen tiles.  

"FAYE!!!"  Spike cried again as his own bullet took down the gunman.

Dank wisps of black hair stuck like spider silk on her bloodied lips as she pushed her face from the tiled floor.  Fire burned in the wake of the metal that had left a gushing tunnel in her flesh.  The gun was still clutched in her right hand, which she used to push herself up onto her knees, then stood slowly.  Blood seeped through her tank top, deepening the color of the already red fabric.  

"Shit!" she swore, taking in the situation at hand.  It was Spike against the world.  Henchmen in black coats were dropping with every round he fired, while he managed to dance across the floor, dodging random bullets with deadly grace.  He flew between shadows and shafts of light like a phantom, flashing bared teeth, his face turned down in lines of hate as he rushed toward her.   As he got closer she could see something else, something that she never would have believed if she hadn't witnessed it.  Underneath that mercenary mask was fear.  It shone in his eyes, cold and desperate.

Suddenly nothing mattered anymore—just him.  She had to get to him.  

"Spike!" Faye yelled, running toward him.  Every step was torture on her abused limbs, but she ran down the aisle anyway. 

Spike closed the short distance between them, but stopped short as she pointed her gun straight at his head and fired. 

"What the hell, Faye!" he cried, turning as the bullet hissed past his ear.  A large man behind him fell backwards, blood spurting from his chest.

He stared at her, then at the body, and back at her again.

"You could have blown my head off!"

"Yeah, well I didn't!" she retorted, grabbing his elbow and pulling him into a pew.  "Besides, how many times have you done that to me, huh?"

He mumbled something incoherent.

Faye peeked over the top of the bench.

"How many?"  Spike asked as he loaded a new clip.

"Four," she said as she fired a couple rounds.  "Make that three."

She ducked back down next to him.

"Is that all?" he said, flashing a crooked grin at her.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her up with him.  In a matter of seconds three more men were corpses on the church floor.

Faye sagged against him, blood loss and fatigue finally catching up with her as the adrenaline wore off.  

"Are you ok?" Spike asked, sweeping his hands and eyes over her body in a quick assessment of her injuries.  "That shoulder wound looks pretty nasty," 

"I'll be fine," she winced as she tried to stand without his support, suddenly remembering she was supposed to be pissed at him. 

  Faye scanned the room, surveying the destruction.  Bodies littered the blood slicked floor; some hung over the pews.  It looked as though they had won, but something was bothering her.

"Spike, where is Vicious?"

"He's dead.  His body is right over…there…," he said, pointing to the bare gray floor and a trail of blood that disappeared in the shadows.

"Guess again, Spike."  Vicious' voice rang out from the darkness, filling the immense room.

The air shrank around their bodies, and the shadows settled just a little lower on their shoulders. Spike pulled Faye protectively against his side, his eyes sweeping the wood paneled walls and carved pews, then resting momentarily on the elaborate crucifix that hung between two stained glass depictions of the Atonement of Christ. He chanced a look down at the woman he held.  Her face was bruised, her body bloody and weak. If she didn't get medical treatment soon she would die.  She lifted her chin to look up at him.  For all her womanliness, her frightened eyes looked like those of a small child. And for the second time that week he prayed:

"Our Father which art in heaven," he began in a whisper, gently pushing Faye to the ground behind a bench.   She gave a small grunt of protest, but stopped when she saw his face.  His brow was furrowed in thought, his lips pressed into a thin line.  He had to do this, and she wouldn't stop him.

"Hallowed be thy Name," He reloaded his Jericho, the chamber settling with a metallic click.

 "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done…" his voice stronger now, he stepped carefully into the moonlit aisle.  "… in earth as it is in heaven."

"Praying are we?" Vicious laughed.  

Spike turned toward the menacing sound, still chanting.

"Give us this day our daily bread," he recited fervently. "And forgive us our trespasses…"

"Forgiveness, Spike?  Do you really believe God has and ear for you?" he mocked as he freed his katana.

"… as we forgive them that trespass against us." Spike entreated, his voice low and sure.  The flash of steel caught his eye as Vicious leapt from atop the pipe organ.  His sword was only partially raised and his other hand clutched the angry wound in his stomach.

"Pray if you must, but know that you will receive no such forgiveness from me!" Vicious yelled, his cry full of anger and sorrow. 

"And lead us not into temptation. " Spike marched stoically toward the other man, his face reflecting the grief of the other. He stopped just a few strides from the man he once called friend.

"But deliver us from evil."  Vicious finished for him and rushed at him, his eyes feral, and katana ready to drink Spikes blood.

Spike raised his gun, his eyes meeting those of his enemy for the last time.

 "Amen," he murmured. 

And a single shot rang into the night.

Time slowed as Spike watched the bullet enter Vicious' skull, his gray eyes wide with shock.  Arms spread and head bent backward, hair descending to the floor in a silver rain.  He fell forever in that second, his black cloak fluttering in a breath of air. Time resumed its normal pace as Vicious' body finally landed with a thud that reverberated through the massive cathedral. The sword fell from his grasp at last and hit the stone with a dull clank.  

Spike sank to his knees with his gun still clutched tightly in his hand.  He raised his bowed head to look at the husk of human life that lay before him.  And for a brief moment he allowed himself to grieve Vicious' soul.  Then he remembered all the pain and suffering he had inflicted on others and felt vindicated in his actions.  The man Vicious died as was not his friend.  He was Satan on a mortal plane.  He would not weep for him.

Faye crawled from where Spike had hidden her.  She was too weak to walk, almost too weak to stay awake.  It was over.  She had watched with satisfaction when Spike blew that hole through Vicious' head.  The selfish part of her wished she had been able to kill him herself.  But it didn't matter anymore.  The deed was done.  

She pulled her knees under her body in an attempt to stand up as she approached him from behind.  A shaft of moonlight fell across his slumped shoulders and gave his unruly dark hair a grayish cast.  She pushed herself next to him, breathing hard from the strain.  

Spike turned to look at her, not smiling, not frowning.  She looked away from him and at the body that lay in front of them.  She grabbed the fallen katana in her right hand.

Faye placed her left hand on Spike's arm and spoke in a whisper, "Help me stand up."

"You shouldn't be moving around so much," he chastised her.  

"Help me up," she repeated louder, glaring at him.

He started to protest again but was silenced by the look in her eyes.  He understood.  He had his peace, now she needed hers.  He stood slowly pulling her up with him.  The edge of the blade scraped on the tiles, a screechy sound that made their teeth clench.  Faye wavered on her feet for a moment.

"Let me go." 

He released her immediately.

Faye staggered the final step between her and the man that had been the source of so much pain.  The tip of the sword dragged behind her.  She paused to look at his face.  Even in death he looked malevolent.  Blood ran in rivulets from the hole in his forehead, pooling in the corners of his wide, glassy eyes.  The red tears flowed down his cheeks into the silver hair fanned around him.  His lips were almost white and frozen in his malicious sneer, mocking her still in death.

Her eyes narrowed and closed as she pressed her lips together and summoned the last vestiges of strength her body possessed.  She raised his katana high over his heart and plunged downward, her body weight driving the blade home through bone and flesh with a sickening crunch.

"Rot in Hell, you bastard," she spat as her knees buckled and she slid down the sword.  Spike pulled Faye into his lap before she landed on the bleeding corpse.  She thought she couldn't cry anymore, but she did.  Only this time she wept tears of relief as Spike cradled her in his arms and cried with her.


	20. Potatoes

Okay, I know I said one more chapter, but I lied.  Now I'm saying one more chapter…I think.  This was supposed to be Spike/Faye goodness here, but Jet stole the show so this is his chapter.  

******

Potatoes

Melancholy gray fingers swept over the crimson inferno on the horizon, stretching into the depths of equally dark water lazily lapping the Bebop's rusting hull.  The murky clouds slowly swallowed the last remnants of sunlight in a rather unspectacular fashion typical of manufactured Martian sunsets before a scheduled rainstorm.  The harbor was silent, save for the occasional cry from a scavenging gull still looking for an evening meal. Jet leaned heavily over the deck railing, elbows resting on the flat steel bar as he stared moodily into the water below him.  His brow furrowed a little as he narrowed his blue eyes at the cigarette glowing orange under his nose and watched the ash fall from the tip into the blackened sea.  He sighed, resting his forehead in the palm of his flesh hand while the metal one removed the dwindling butt from his thin lips and tossed it overboard.  It had been a long day.

The Swordfish had landed haphazardly on the deck and taxied into the hanger just after midnight. Jet had been hanging around the hangar since Spike had left, waiting for one or both of them to return.  He would never admit, of course, that he had been going insane with worry.  Emotional outbursts of the touchy/feely kind—hugging, for instance—were not acceptable in his book; at least not in front of Spike.  Faye and Ed were a different story.  Females thrived on that kind of crap.  So it was with great restraint that he casually walked over to Spike's starship to check things out.  All he could see from the ground was his partner's tangled hair bobbing above the hull.  The hatch popped with the release of canned air and slid open.  Spike seemed to be talking to himself. His lips were moving, but whatever he was saying was too quiet to be heard.  Jet stopped at the base of the ship.  Looking up, he folded his massive arms across his equally massive chest and regarded Spike with what he hoped was a nonchalant glare.

"Is she on her way back?" 

Spike looked up from his lap, noticing Jet's presence for the first time.  At first glance he appeared to be worn out.  His skin was pallid and his eyes were dark and puffy. Dark curls were matted to his brow with sweat and his shoulders were slumped forward.  

"No, she's already here," Spike answered quickly, looking down into his lap.  

It was then that he saw it.  The tight set of his jaw, his lips pressed firmly together; the barely disguised hope and anxiety in his eyes.  Spike was clearly upset; and if Jet didn't know better, he'd swear his young friend was afraid.

Spike carefully lifted Faye's limp body into a sitting position on his lap.  He had somehow managed to wedge himself and Faye into the cockpit built for one without causing the poor girl further injury.  Jet needed no vocal prodding to scramble up the side and help Spike maneuver her safely to the ground.  He ended up slinging her over his shoulder as he climbed down, Spike not far behind.  Dead weight that she was, she still wasn't much of a burden for him to carry.  

"Give her to me," Spike demanded the moment his feet touched the floor.  He reached shaky hands towards Faye's sagging frame.  Jet raised an eyebrow and sidestepped him. 

"No way," Jet refused as he set off across the hangar, leaving Spike standing by the Swordfish. 

"What?" Spike asked perplexed by Jet's actions.  He rushed to catch up, tripping on his own feet in the process. 

"You're exhausted…might drop her," Jet gruffly delcared with a sidelong glance at Spike, who was hovering by his elbow as they walked down the dark corridor to where the old yellow couch waited for it's most recent patient.  

"I would not," Spike huffed incredulously, but he made no further attempts to take her

In the end Jet decided she looked worse than her injuries actually were.  Most of her wounds were superficial cuts and bruises covering her from head to foot, but her face seemed to have taken the brunt of Vicious' anger.  Some of them were old and caked over with dry blood, others fresh and oozing scarlet rivulets over swollen purple and yellow mottled skin. Her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw from manacles, and blood from her cracked skull had matted her hair into a giant scab on the back of her head. Then there was the bullet that had to be fished out from her partially dislocated shoulder.  She had chosen that moment to regain consciousness, jerking upward while his pliers were stuffed deep into the bleeding hole and forcing the bullet even further into her flesh. Jet clenched the railing at the memory of her screams, so shrill they could have peeled wallpaper, had there been any to peel on the ship.  It was the most horrific sound he'd ever heard.  Spike had had to use all his remaining strength to hold her down while he finished removing the bullet and stitching the wound shut. Then they'd reset her shoulder.  Once or twice he thought he'd glimpsed wetness around Spike's eyes while he tried sooth her through her piteous cries and shouts of "God, just kill me now."    He'd felt like a monster sewing her up and then jerking the ball joint back into it's socket without so much as a drop of whiskey to ease the pain.  The most he could offer her at the moment was a couple aspirins—the only painkiller on the ship.  She had been a mess, but she would live.  And he supposed that was all that really mattered.

Footsteps echoing on the deck's steel floor broke his reverie.  The acrid sweet scent of burning tobacco drifted on the night breeze.  The footfalls stopped abruptly, and Jet knew without looking that Spike was leaning against the railing next to him.  The silence lay unbroken between them, save the crinkling of burning paper and water slapping the hull in rhythmic waves.  After a short forever, Jet raised his eyes skyward.  Once again Phobos and Deimos were shining in the Martian heavens.

"Potatoes," Spike stated, following Jet's gaze.  

Jet turned toward him, one black brow raised in question.   

"What?" he asked, the corners of his mouth turned down ever so slightly.

"The moons.  They look like giant potatoes," Spike explained, shifting his weight from two elbows to one as he turned to face his partner.

"Potatoes, huh?"  Jet mused, glancing back at the would-be-spuds in question.  "I guess they are too lumpy to be eggs."

"Way too lumpy," Spike agreed.

"Is she still sleeping?" Jet asked lightly.

"Actually, both 'shes' are sleeping," Spike replied, pausing for a moment. "And the mutt."

Jet nodded his balding head appreciatively.  

"I thought it was awfully quiet around here," he supplied after another moment of comfortable silence.

"Yeah," Spike nodded in return.

"It's kind of nice," Jet decided, turning back toward the water.

"Yup," Spike agreed, pushing himself away from the rail.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to walk back inside.

"You staying out for a bit," he asked over his shoulder.

Jet smiled out over the open water as relief filled him with the realization that Spike's other life with Vicious and the syndicate was finally over.  And he was still alive.  And by some miracle virtually unharmed.

"Yeah, I think I am…" Jet trailed off.

Spike shrugged and wandered back to the hanger.


End file.
